


Danny Zuko  (a.k.a. Danny Zuko was a Hot Chick)

by Alsike



Series: Danny Zuko and Timestamps [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Age Regression, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, First Time, Skinny Dipping, Spanking, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsike/pseuds/Alsike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer she is fifteen, Emily is dragged to a resort in Sacramento.  Expecting only misery, it quickly becomes a summer she will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School's Out for Summer

A letter from Emily’s mother arrived at Emily’s Italian girls’ school in Florence the last week of classes with tragic news.  Instead of going back to Rome for the summer (Emily loved Rome in the summer, it was disgusting and dusty and full of tourists, but she never felt more like she belonged than when everyone else clearly didn’t) and seeing her friends (John had said he was going to sneak them out to go to a Discotheque, and Matt had gotten a Vespa and wanted to drive her up into the hills to go painting), her mother was going to a month long conference on international policy and economics and was taking Emily with her.  To _Sacramento_.

“If you were going to have a conference on ‘internationalism’ why couldn’t you have it some place international?” Emily whined to her roommate.  “Like Finland?” Emily had always wanted to go to Finland.

Daniela, her roommate, was not sympathetic.  “Sacramento’s in California, isn’t it?  I want to go to California.”

“It’s inland,” Emily told her.  “No beaches.”

Daniela shrugged.  “It’s Cali _fornia_.”

Emily rolled her eyes and dropped onto her bed.  “I want to go to Rome.”

“Rome is terrible in the summer.  My family is taking a trip to Elba.  I will think of you when I am swimming in the Mediterranean with my hot French boyfriend.”

“Your imaginary hot French boyfriend?”

Daniela flicked a crumpled paper at her that bounced off her forehead.  “A summer boyfriend.  You, my friend, need to take advantage of your trip to Sacramento, and find yourself a summer boyfriend.  You need to get _laid_.”

Emily groaned.  This was not a new instruction.  “I asked you, but no, ‘you don’t shit where you eat’ you said.”

“A summer boyfriend,” Daniela repeated.  “You need something easy.  Girlfriends are too much trouble.  And find a California boy.  You can be whoever you want to be in the summer and forget it when you leave.  Haven’t you seen Grease?”

“You’re taking love advice from Grease?”

Daniela gave her a sharp-eyed glance and a grin.  “Sex advice, not love advice.  And that’s the advice that you need.”  She turned back to her mirror and started fixing her hair.  “You’ll be sixteen in October.  You shouldn’t be a virgin when you’re sixteen.”

“Wasn’t the Olivia Newton-John girl already sixteen?”

“It was nineteen-fifty.  Every generation it drops a year.”

Emily blinked and calculated in her head.  “So, technically I should have lost it at fourteen?”

“They were seniors, she was probably seventeen.”

“How many times have you seen that movie?”

Daniela glared at her.  “You have too many boys who are friends.  You need a boy you want to fuck.”  She stood up and stalked over to Emily’s bed.  “You have nice tits and a good body, and maybe in California you can get a tan.  And I want all the details when you get back.”  Daniela grinned.  “Shock me.”

“Like I could ever shock _you_.”  Emily rolled her eyes, and then grabbed the front of Daniela’s shirt and sat up to kiss her.

“Mmm,” Daniela hummed into the kiss.  “Your mouth is _made_ for blow jobs.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Daniela grinned and patted her cheek.  “Shock me.”

*            *            *

Her mother met her at the airport in Rome.  She gave her a hug and an air kiss and signaled the porter to take her bags.  “Darling, I’m so glad we’re going to be spending the vacation together.”

They always spent vacations together, well, if you counted Elizabeth working and Emily being bored and miserable or going off on her own a lot _together_ , which she generally didn’t.  This one didn’t look to be any different.

“And don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of fun.  Most of the other panelists are bringing their kids.  I know Winston is, and I think he has a girl around your age, so you’ll have a friend already.”

Emily did not make friends easily, especially not with girls her own age, and this whole expedition was looking more and more daunting.

“And the conference is only during the day, so we can have dinner together and perhaps do some outings on weekends.  The resort is supposed to be very nice.”

“It’s a resort?” she asked unhappily.  Emily hated resorts.  They were like prisons, she thought, keeping you out of the real town.  You never actually went to a place if you stayed in a resort.  You just mixed with tourists and ate food you could get anywhere, and then went home.

“It looks excellent.  Two pools, a game room, they even have stables nearby where you can go riding, and a spa.”  She grinned.  “For me, of course, and tennis.”

“I don’t play tennis.”

“You can have lessons.”  Elizabeth pulled her towards the gate.  “In fact, I’ll sign you up right away.  You can play every day.”

Emily didn’t usually hate her mother.  But there were certain moments where she didn’t really have a choice.

*            *            *

Jetlagged and miserable from a thirty-hour trip, Emily staggered out of the taxi from the airport and didn’t even bother glancing up at the palm bordered great white edifice that was like every other resort she’d ever seen.

“Oh good,” said her mother, perfect as always.  Traveling was like a day off for her.  “It’s not yet eight, we still have time to meet Winston for dinner.”

Emily ignored her and trudged inexorably toward the bathroom where she splashed her face with cold water until the attendant tapped her shoulder and asked her if she knew California was in a drought.  Emily could care less, but she left the bathroom anyway and found her mother talking animatedly to a tall man with slightly graying hair in a crisp grey suit.  Emily thought he was ugly.  Of course, most men older than 25 were pretty ugly in her opinion.

“Oh, Winston, this is my daughter Emily.”

Winston just looked at her, narrowed eyes, and gave a short nod.  “My children,” he said, and they appeared mysteriously out of the woodwork.  “Christian and Adrienne,” were hanging out by the piano.  Christian, sitting on the bench, gave a friendly wave.  He was much better looking than his father, blond and fresh-faced, although he was wearing a hat with a pompom on it and a plaid vest, which made Emily rather doubt he would be interested in women, much less her.  Adrienne, in a short sundress that showed too much leg, just glanced at her and looked away with a sniff and a toss of her red-gold hair.  Emily disliked her immediately, but looked back quickly when she leaned over, giving a peek of lacy blue underwear under her skirt.  Then she pretended to have been looking somewhere else.

“Cordelia.”  Cordelia was a kid with mouse brown hair sitting under a plant with a book.  She didn't even bother to glance up.

Winston frowned and glanced around.  “Where’s Emma?”

“I think she had to run up back to the room,” Christian chimed in.  But his eyes slid in the opposite direction and Emily followed his gaze to a swinging door.  It opened and she spotted a skinny girl with dirty-blonde hair, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hitting on one of the waiters.

“You mother was telling me she was going to sign you up for tennis lessons.”  Emily realized that Winston was talking to her again.  “I thought perhaps I should do the same for Emma.  She could be your partner.”

That sounded excellent.  Emily tried not to grimace.  Tennis lessons were embarrassing enough alone.  Displaying her complete lack of coordination was not her favorite activity.  She kind of didn’t want to even imagine what it would be like to have to suffer through tennis lessons with someone who just wanted to hit on the instructor.

She saw Emma pocket what looked like a phone number and saunter out of the kitchens.  She made a hand signal to Christian that seemed to say something like “I’ve got one more than you now.”  And Emily really did _not_ want to know.

“Emz,” Christian called out, and Emily glanced up before realizing that he was talking to his sister.  Great, they had the same nickname.  “This is Emily.”  He gestured.

Emma glanced over, and Emily crossed her arms, trying to deflect the narrow appraising gaze.  She was suddenly hyper aware of having not changed her clothes in two days.  She was still wearing her school uniform, she probably had pretzel crumbs down her front, and she had spilt screwdriver on her skirt from when she had tried to steal a sip of her mother’s drink and they had hit unexpected turbulence.  Emma seemed to see all of this, and looked amused.

Emily just glared back.  It wasn’t like she was impressed by the girl’s perfect hair, perfect white dress, and perfect matching girly sandals, or her complete lack of boobs.  She was a skinny kid, and that waiter must have been a pedophile.

*            *            *

 


	2. Under Water

Emily dove into the pool.  The cool water was a relief from the unrelenting Sacramento heat, and the first tennis lesson had been hell.  Thank god their instructor was a no-nonsense elderly woman though, and even Emma wasn’t about to hit on that.  She did try to wheedle her around to just saying that they had had a lesson, so they could go swimming instead of running around on the hot cement courts, but she would have none of it.

“Your parents are paying good money for these lessons.  I expect you both to have mastered the basics of tennis by the end of our sessions!”

Emily cringed for different reasons.  She liked chess.  She even wasn’t bad at certain martial arts (bare handed was preferable) and archery was also something she enjoyed.  But sports were really not her thing.  She tripped over the ball in soccer, ran the wrong direction in basketball, and according to one of her injured friends turned anything with a racket into a martial art.  He had been holding his bloody nose at the time.  She had been apologizing.

“It’s not like he doesn’t have money to burn,” she heard Emma mutter, but it wasn’t loud enough for the instructor to catch.

They were taught how to hold their rackets and then the instructor hit them gentle easy balls, which they were supposed to tap back over the net.  Emily seemed to have two options: hit the net and over the fence.  Every time she hit it over the fence the instructor made her run to get it, and would yell at her if she tried to slack off, so after a while Emily just hit them all into the net.  It was safer.

Emma found her incompetence highly amusing.  The instructor yelled at her a few times for not doing what she was told (Emily always did what she was told.  It just didn’t work for her.) but she managed to keep the ball in the court at least, which was highly unfair.  By the end of the lesson she was hardly sweating and Emily’s shirt was soaked.

In the locker room Emma flashed her a grin, which was a first.  She hadn’t even spoken to her on their way in.  She glanced her up and down and Emily knew she was a mess, and the grin turned into a little more of a smirk.  “Race you to the pool,” she said.  “You look like you need it.”

Emily had to go upstairs to get her swimsuit, but she was still the first in the pool.  Emma had gotten distracted and was trying to flirt with one of the cabana boys again.  She didn’t look like she had just gone through an hour and a half tennis ordeal.  Emily floated on her back in the pool telling herself that she really didn’t care.  But she floated in that direction anyways.

“Come on, give me your room number, I’ll bring you something special.”

Emma gave an incredulous laugh.  “I don’t think so.  I’m sharing with my baby sister.”

“She can watch.”

Emma made a sound that sounded like demurral.  “How about you tell me how to find you?”

“Call room service.  Ask for Manuel.”  He sounded amused.  “Then I’ll know your room number.”

Emma gave a huff.  “Oh well, if you don’t want me to call…  I’d love to get out of this hotel, see some of the nightlife.”

There was scratching, like Manuel was writing down his phone number.  “I’m off this Friday.  Give me a call.  Bring a friend if you want.”

Emily pushed off the wall and swam underwater across the pool.  When she surfaced Emma was sitting on the edge, feet in the water, looking down at her.

“You look almost human now.”

“Fuck off,” Emily muttered.  She hoisted herself up to sit next to him.  Then she frowned, glancing at Emma.  “You going to call him?”

Emma snorted.  “Not likely.”

“You never give them your room number, do you?”

Emma shook her head.  “I don’t give them my last name.  Not that they usually ask.”

“You’re a bit of a tease, aren't you?”

Emma frowned at her.  “You think I should put out?  To _Manuel_?  A waiter?  He’s like thirty.  Clearly he did not make great life choices.  You think he’s a catch?”

Emily snorted.  “No.  But why do you even talk to them if you aren’t interested?”

Emma looked at her feet through the ripples of the pool.  “I want to know that they want me.” 

Emily blinked, surprised at the honest answer.  “Oh.”

“Don’t you ever want that?  It’s nice to know that someone finds you attractive.”  She gave Emily a sidelong glance.  “Or do you just assume that nobody does?”

Wordlessly, Emily shoved her into the pool.  She shrieked.  It was satisfying.

“I wasn’t saying that you _ought_ to!” Emma yelped, and splashed Emily.  It was nice and cooling.  She climbed back out of the pool.  “You just act like you don’t want people to look at you.  Probably because you think they won’t like what they see.  Which is… not true.”

Daniela had said that before.  It was unpleasant to hear it out of the mouth of a girl who hit on waiters for self-validation.  “Even if they look at you, it doesn’t mean they like you.  They think you’re a kid that they might get to fuck,” Emily snapped at her.

“It’s better than _nothing_ , which is what you get.  I bet you’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Have _you_ had a boyfriend?” Emily asked, incredulous.  “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Emily snorted.  “Jailbait.”

“Shut up.”

“If you have a boyfriend why do you hit on waiters?”

“I never said I have a boyfriend.  I just said _you_ don’t.  Which you didn’t deny.”

“Don’t you have friends that can tell you you’re pretty, or, whatever it is you need to know?”

“Friends?” Emma frowned.

“You don’t have friends?” Emily squeaked out.

“I have plenty of friends,” Emma snapped.  “Just… none that I would ask for help if I were drowning.  Bitches.”

“Sorry.”

“Fuck off.”  Emma kicked the water as if considering getting back in and swimming away.  “You have friends.”

“Not a lot.  And I move often.  The good ones… maybe I hear from them three times a year.  But I know I could ask for help if I were drowning, and they were, you know, not thousands of miles away.”

Emma harrumphed.  “Any good at teaching the skill?”

“How to make friends?” Emily shrugged.  “Be yourself.  If they’re worth it, they’ll deal.”

Emma snorted.  “Even my brother has stopped telling me that one.  My ‘self’ is selfish and bitchy and manipulative.  I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone who would be friends with me.”

“Groucho Marx.”

“Huh?”

“Well, sort of.”  Emma looked blank, but Emily wasn’t going to explain the reference.  “We should swim.”

She slipped off the ledge and Emma followed her in.

Emily opened her eyes underwater, ignoring the sting to watch Emma move through the pool.  She was someone who was hard to see above water.  The undeniable force of her personality distracted you from looking because you were too busy reacting, trying to stay on top of the debate.  She had been flushed and slightly tousled from the tennis, laughing at her, and pretty, and Emily had hated her for it.  She didn’t hate her as much now.  In a way that made it worse, because now she noticed pale skin, long legs, bitter flashing eyes, and her sullen brutal mouth.

She ran out of air and pushed off the bottom, coming up with a splash and a gasp, scraping her hair out of her face and then rubbing her eyes to stop the stinging.  Emma paddled over to her.

“Come on, those guys said they’ll let us play.”

Emily glanced over to the two boys with the pool volleyball net.  “Are you serious?  You _know_ how much I suck at sports.”

“It’ll be funny.”  Emma grinned.  “Your face, when you screw up, is awesome.”

Emily splashed her.

They were actually just kids, not Emma’s usual prey, thirteen at the most and decidedly geeky.  And Emma was good enough at the game to keep them from losing too miserably from the start.  And Emily only made a fool of herself three or four times.  Then, of course, the long haired boy said, “first to three, loser pays a forfeit!”

Emma agreed before Emily could stop her.  She knew that her supreme klutziness was just waiting to come out, which it did.  She nearly drowned, and fell over, losing them the last point.  She came up sputtering and Emma was too busy laughing at her to care.  “Claim your forfeit,” she managed, still laughing.

The boys quickly started deliberating.  Then two older boys came over, tanned and sun bleached hair, splashing the younger ones, brothers it seemed.  “Dude,” the one with the good chest said.  “Make them make out.  It’ll be hot.”

The smaller of the boys looked hesitant, but the long-haired one grinned.  “Yeah, make out.”

“Really?” Emma asked, her voice taking on that quality that Emily could already identify as her hard-to-get mode.  “You’d rather we kiss each other than _you_?”

The long-haired boy suddenly looked unsure.  “Wait…”  The two older boys were laughing.

“Too late to change your mind,” Emma said with a grin, and splashed towards Emily.

“Hey…” Emily backed away, but too soon found the side of the pool against her back

“Come on.  Before the hot ones get bored.”

Emily made a strangled noise of protest, but Emma cupped her face in both hands.  “Hold still and let me do this.”  She leaned in, and caught Emily’s lower lip in her mouth, dragging her teeth across the inside.  Emily made a sound and then wished she hadn’t.  But Emma was kissing her now, properly, and Emily kissed back because she _could_.  Her mouth tasted like chlorine and her back was cool where Emily’s hands slid up it.  She didn’t kiss like Daniela at all.  Daniela liked lazy soft kisses, wet and hot.  Emma kissed hard, with her teeth, and was precise, planned, and defensive, and Emily had never been quite this turned on by just a kiss, particularly not one that was just a show.  Emma’s hands had moved into her hair, tangling in the wet locks, holding so tightly it hurt, and Emily’s hands slid down to her ass, hoisting her up just enough so she didn’t have to pull so hard for the angle, and she felt more than heard the little growl that Emma made in her chest.  And then she pulled away.

Emily didn’t want to let her go, but she couldn’t show that.  It would be humiliating.  She slowly dropped her down until her feet touched bottom, not far, as the younger girl was taller than her.  Emma was watching her with an odd expression on her face.  “You’re _good_ at that.”

Emily couldn’t meet her eyes.  “I’ve had practice,” she muttered, and didn’t notice the momentary look of hurt that flashed in Emma’s eyes.  She glanced back over to the boys.  The older ones grinned and one flashed two thumbs up before they wandered off towards some older girls.  The smaller of the young ones scowled.  “You enjoyed that too much for it to be a forfeit.”

“Hey, you wanted it,” Emma snarked back.

“Rematch!” demanded the long-haired one.

Emily shook her head and pushed herself up out of the pool.  “I’m going back upstairs,” she said.  “Sorry.”

She left and went back to the room she shared with her mother and took a shower.  Half way through she leaned forward, clenching her fists and pressing them against the tile wall.  “ _Fuck_!” she hissed, tipping her head up into the hard spray, trying to pound away the bad thoughts in her head.  “You _always_ fall for the straight girls, idiot.”

She checked the time when she got out of the shower.  Her mom wouldn't be back for at least an hour and a half.  She didn’t bother to get dressed, just crawled naked into bed and jerked off until she could finally think about something else.

Unfortunately, when her mother did come back, she told Emily that they were going out to dinner with the Frost family, and it was a little awkward sitting across the table from someone she had just masturbated while thinking about.  But Christian, that lovely boy, had brought a flask and shared it around, and Emily proceeded, without a second thought, to get drunk.


	3. God of Wine and Bad Parties

Emma had decided that she pretty much hated Emily Prentiss.  It wasn’t really her fault.  Emily was just the type of person that Emma hated.  At first she had thought that she might be okay to pity, because she was funny and terrible at tennis and really aware that she was terrible at tennis which was amusing to watch, and really, there wasn’t anyone else here to hang around with.  Even Christian didn’t want to hang out with his kid sister all the time.  So Emily would do.

Then, of course, she had criticized her.  There was nothing wrong with liking guys and messing with them for fun (even if sometimes that seemed contradictory).  Her sister did it all the time.  But Emily seemed to think that she was wasting her time, and she had _friends_ , and she kissed like she had been kissing Emma for years, like it was easy.  And then she had said she had ‘had practice.’  That was _fucking_ obvious.

It was easy enough to put the clues together.  Emily was a socially competent person who just pretended to be socially incompetent, and was therefore a bitch and a liar.  And Emma was able to believe that for the rest of the evening, when Emily proceeded to get buzzed and talk to Christian and Cordelia like they were old friends and ignore Emma entirely.  And she was able to believe it for the rest of the next day, which was Sunday (no tennis lesson) where she saw neither hide nor hair of the girl.  It was just that night, at the party held by the conference to mark the beginning of session, when she saw her walk in, sort of cute and formal in a dark dress, glance up, see Emma, and then immediately turn and snag a wine glass off the nearest tray, and proceed to avoid her for the next four glasses.

Emma was a little disconcerted by this.  Even if she hated Emily, and Emily hated her back, there really wasn’t anyone else appropriate to hang out with, and that was the way Emma had acquired all the people she called friends before.  She wasn’t expecting Emily to try to avoid her.

And she was getting drunk.  That was a _lot_ of wine, and on the fifth she seemed to have utterly forgotten about Emma, and was talking to an old man with no hair on his head and a huge grey bushy beard (and rather stylish round glasses) like they were old friends and laughing and giving him a huge smile that ate up her entire face.  If the guy hadn’t been old and mature and responsible, he would have gone for her by now.  _Anyone_ would have gone for her, drunk and friendly and totally fuckable.  And it pissed her off.

So she stood, and waited, until Emily turned and saw her and _flinched_.  “You’re drunk,” she snapped.

“So _fucking_ what?”

And that was not the response that Emma had expected at all.  Why was Emily nice to everyone _but_ her?  “What?  You don’t care that you’re making a fool of yourself?”

“I thought you’d be happy with that!  All you do is make fun of me!”

“No one made you drink that much!”

Emily’s eyes narrowed and she stepped closer.  “Actually… you _did_.”

Emma stepped back, confused, and kind of scared of what she might do.  But Emily followed her, backing her towards the window alcove.

“You and your dirty,” she took a step, “pretty,” another step, “slutty _mouth.”_   And her hand went over Emma’s mouth, fingers pressing against her lips, twisting them.  Emily glared at her.  “I don’t _like_ you.”

Emma grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand away.  “It’s pretty mutual.”

“You don’t _get_ it,” and Emily suddenly looked hopeless and sort of vulnerable, and she caught Emma by the shoulders, pushing her back against the window, and kissed her.  It was quick, just pressure and the taste of wine, and then Emily shook her, still unhappy.

Emma blinked.  Oh.  Then a slow smile spread across her face.  “I don’t care,” she said, a little archly.  “Just keep your hands to yourself and we won’t have any problems.”

Emily looked sort of stunned and a little hurt.  Emma patted her shoulder.

“And if it really makes you that neurotic, I won’t make out with you to entertain boys in the future.”

After that, Emma felt much better about herself.  Emily wasn’t socially competent.  Clearly, she just got drunk at parties, which made her friendly and forward, which was obviously how she had made friends.  And she had been criticizing Emma for flirting because she was _jealous_ , which was validating in at least two ways.  And she was kind of an awesome kisser, which was good to know, if Emma was _desperate_.

*            *            *

The next day Emma sauntered into the locker room before changing and said, “Hi,” to Emily, who proceeded to tangle herself up in her shirt.  Eventually she straightened it out.

“So,” Emma continued, when Emily seemed to have recovered her equanimity.  “When you said you’d had practice, you meant that you’ve made out with girls before, right?”

Emily stared at her for a moment, before nodding.  “Yeah.  My roommate mostly.  Girls’ boarding schools… you know the reputation.”

Emma laughed.  “I _told_ my father I didn’t want to be a commuter student!”  Emily smiled, glancing away.  “But you haven’t gone all the way or anything?”

Emily gaped a little.  “Uh, no.”

“So are you… exclusively girl-oriented?”

Emily made an awkward circular shrug.  “No?”  It was more of a question than anything.  “I don’t know.  My roommate,” she laughed.  “She just assumes everyone’s bi and works from there.  Or if it’s not true, she’ll encourage it.  She says I should get a boyfriend, because they are less trouble than girlfriends.”

Emma considered this.  “That makes sense.”  She carelessly stripped off and changed into her tennis outfit.  Emily pointedly looked away, but Emma didn’t really care.  “Hey, after this, do you want to raid my dad’s mini bar and talk about sex?”

“What?” Emily looked a bit thrown by the question.

Emma shrugged.  “Or swimming or movies or whatever.  Just… you want to hang out?”

“Okay,” Emily said.

Emma grinned and on the way out tapped her ass with her racket.


	4. Risky Business

Emma hung off the bed, upside-down, her hair brushing the carpet and she stared at the television picture, which involved a gothic castle and a carriage.  Northanger Abbey, probably, or maybe a new version of Wuthering Heights.

“You know, I think our generation lacks a sense of romance.”

Emily blinked up from her novel and over to Emma, who had been the one to decide that they were staying in, ordering lunch from room service, and generally recovering from sunbun and overexposure today.  Emily thought it might be an opportunity to bring up uncomfortably blunt topics of conversation, and she _had_ been distressingly drunk the other night, and really didn’t want Emma to pry into why exactly she thought molesting her at a grown-up party was a good idea, but so far she had been nervewrackingly circumspect.

“We do?”

“I dunno.” Emma crawled up the bed and flopped onto the pillows next to her.  “We don’t have drama anymore.  Half of romance is supposed to be about finding the one honorable person in a bunch of rakes, but there aren’t any honorable people anymore, so we just have rakes.”

“I’m honorable,” Emily muttered.

Emma lifted her head, eyed her curiously, and laughed.  “I’ll keep that in mind when I am being pursued by a wretched duke.”

“What have you been reading?  Just because our sense of romance has changed, it doesn’t mean it’s gone.”  Emily closed her book.  “My friend Daniela takes all her romantic cues from Grease.”

Emma stared at her.  “Grease?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that a musical?”

“Yes.”

Emma considered this.  “Maybe it’s on demand.”  She poked through the channels.  “Oh!  It’s coming on in a half an hour.”

“Oh,” Emily said, not entirely enthused.  “You want to watch it?”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“Mm, okay.  I guess.”

“Do you really not want to watch it?”

“I don’t mind.  My mom caught me watching it and told me that the heroine gets pregnant and then dies in a motorcycle accident, but, uh, not to spoil anything, that doesn’t happen.  Either she had it mixed up with a Shirelles song, or she was trying to warn me off of some subversive content that I didn’t really notice.”

Emma snickered.  “Subversive content?”

“Well, it suggests that high school students have sex.”

“I learned that when I was _eight_.”  Emma grimaced.  “It kinda put me off.”

“ _You_?”

Emma glowered.  “Wouldn’t walking in on your sister riding her boyfriend like a pony put you off?”

Emily cringed.  “Okay, probably.”

Emma didn’t look certain that she was convinced.  She sat up and clambered onto Emily’s hips.  “Oh, yes! Justin, yes!”  She bounced, plowing Emily into the bed, and Emily yelped and dropped her book.  Emma caught her shirt in her fists.  “Squeeze them!  Deeper!”  Emily flailed helplessly.  Finally she grabbed the bedspread and held on tightly, biting her lip so she didn’t groan when Emma ground into her hips once more.

Then Emma stopped.  She looked down at Emily and arched an eyebrow.  “I was _eight_.”  She tugged the handfuls of shirt for emphasis.

“Why aren’t you _still_ put off?” Emily managed to get out.

Emma sat back and looked away, an odd expression on her face.  Emily looked at her and shuffled up on her elbows to see better and regain some dignity.  “Are you?  You mess with boys all the time.  But do you actually want to have sex?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, a little scratchily.  “Of course.  Just… not like that.”

Emily snorted.

“I want to.  I just… don’t want all the shit that goes along with it.”

Emily considered her and wished she wasn’t still sitting on her legs.  It made this awkward.  “Which shit?  Like relationships shit, or the condoms and stuff.”

Emma looked at her and laughed.  “Both I guess.  I just… I don’t want it to have to mean something or have consequences, or be gross or…” she pursed her lips.  “Scary,” she said quickly, as if saying it quick meant she didn’t mean it.  “I feel like there should be some sort of brothel or something where you can just work stuff out without worrying about being judged for it.”  Her lips twisted distastefully.  “But brothels are disgusting.”

“You sound like my roommate.”  Emily frowned.  “Well, you’d sound like her if she was still a virgin.  She’s always trying to find ways of making it not mean anything.  It always ends up with me being cornered by six guys who want another go and think I have some sway because I live with her, and six girls who are pissed that their boyfriends aren’t into them anymore.”

Emma just looked at her.  “Your roommate, she sounds pretty… competent.  She’s the one you make out with?”

Emily glanced away.  “It’s practice.”

“So it doesn’t mean anything.”

Emily snorted.  “Oh no, she’s very emphatic about that.  She says I need comparison samples, and she’s too good to count, so I need a representative sample of both boys and girls before I’m allowed to make any decisions.”

Emma blinked.  She looked slightly confused and then enlightened, and shuffled off of Emily’s legs dropping back onto the bed.  “Sounds scientific.”

“Yeahhh.”

“Well, you’ve got one girl sample.”  Emma grinned.  “Now we need to find you a boy.”

“Wait.  What?”

Emma arched an eyebrow at her.  “You don’t mean I’m too good to count too?”

“No,” Emily said flatly.  “But you seriously don’t need to continue Daniela’s insane Kinsey experiments.”

“So you don’t want to kiss guys?”

“I don’t want to kiss random slutty guys that you hook me up with!”

“But you kissed me, at the party, in the window.  Sooo…”

Emily groaned.  She needed to stop that train of thought immediately.  “Clearly that was poor judgment on my part.”

Emma whacked her with a pillow.

They watched the movie.  Emily fell asleep half way through.  When it was over Emma shook her awake.

“Your mom’s going to be back from meeting soon.  You said she wanted to take you out to dinner.”

Emily rubbed her eyes and yawned.  “Yeah.”  She blinked up at Emma who was looking down at her, considering something.  It made Emily feel slightly unsafe.  “What?”

“It didn’t mean anything, you know.”

“What?”

“You kissing me in the window.  It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

“Okay,” Emily said slowly, the worry creeping up on her sleepiness.

“And…”  Emma was still looking at her rather intensely.  “If I kissed you, or… anything.  That could not mean anything too.”

“Oh.”  Emily gave a slight nod.  “Yeah, I guess.”  The first _anything_ had rather thrown her, and the way Emma’s eyes had flicked down her body hadn’t helped.

“Okay.”  Emma ducked down and pressed her mouth against Emily’s, softly, her lips a little chapped from the air conditioning, her hair brushing like a swish of silk against her forehead, a demonstration.  “See.”  She smiled.  “Nothing at all.”


	5. Sunbathing and... Other Stuff

“Oh Shit!”

Emma jerked at the exclamation, but didn’t remove her hand from between her legs.  She just looked over and glared at Emily who had disturbed her masturbation session on the lawn chair in the bright morning sun.

“Come on, it’s not like you don’t do it.”

Emily shook her head, eyes wide, and glanced around.  The platform was empty save for them.  Maybe sunbathing wasn’t that popular that early in the morning, and few people had found this spot, but still…  She eyed her consideringly.  “Not outdoors.”

Emma grinned.  “It’s better outdoors.”

Emily finished off her drink and glanced around.  The sunbathing platform was on a roof and you could see the grounds of the hotel rather well.  “What were you thinking about?”

Emma jerked her head, pointing.  “He’s a decent piece of meat.”

Emily followed her gaze to the pool boy, currently engaged in trimming the hedges around the pool.  “Your brother seems to think so too.”  Christian was hanging around him, clearly trying to work up the nerve to make conversation.

Emma cringed.  “Great, thanks for spoiling it for me.”

Emily smiled, clearly pleased with herself and leaned against the wall.  “What were you thinking about him doing?”

Emma blinked at her.  “Are you _drunk_?  It’s ten am.”

Emily flashed a dirty grin and held up her glass.  “Yeah, but our parents had mimosas for breakfast, and when they left I finished them all.”

Emma snorted.  “You’re going to have a problem some day, Miss Alco.”

“Shut up.  I want to hear about your fantasy.”

Emma laughed, and stretched out in her lawn chair.  “Well I was just lying here, being seductive-”

"Are you sure you weren't fantasizing about _yourself_?"

Emma flipped her off.  “And I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, he’s standing over me.”

Emily moved towards her, between her and the sun, casting a shadow over Emma’s body.  “Like this?”

“Closer.”

Emily straddled her, kneeling on the chair.  “Like _this_?” she asked, putting one hand alongside Emma’s head, the other on the armrest.  Emma just looked at her, her eyes uncannily bright and blue under the shade of her hat.  This wasn’t what she had expected from this, thought about maybe, but not expected.  Still, she couldn’t say she minded.  It was just Emily.  Drunk and predatory or not, she would feel stupid being afraid of _Emily_.

“ _You’re_ in a mood today.  But yeah.”

“Did he touch you?”  Emily fingers moved to her hip, brushing it softly.  Emma bit down on her lip to keep herself from making a sound and tipped her head back, baring her throat.  Emily pressed a soft kiss to it, and then licked, dragging the flat of her tongue up her neck, her fingers curling into Emma’s hair, nails tracing lines in her scalp.

“ _Fuck_ , Emily.  I like you when you’re drunk.”

Emily nosed at the cleavage of her bikini top and then bit at the tops of her breasts.  Emma’s hips pushed up into her.  “I like you when you’re a slut,” Emily hissed, and before Emma could shove her off to show how offended she was, fingers dipped between Emma’s legs, and she gasped.

“You _suck_ ,” she managed, and fisted the back of Emily’s shirt, holding on tightly.  Her heels flailed, digging for purchase on the slick plastic weave of the chair, as Emily traced the tips of two fingers lightly up the crotch of her swimsuit.  She wanted to push up into it, and finally her heels hit the bar and she did, but before she could get any pressure Emily snatched her hand away.

“Hold still.”

Emma hated the noise that came out of her throat in protest.  She dug her nails into Emily’s back vindictively.  Emily pulled back, grabbed her wrists and shoved them above her head.  She only needed one hand to keep them there, no matter how Emma fought her.  “Hold _still_ ,” she snapped.

Frustrated, Emma obeyed.  She’d get her revenge later, but if Emily stood up and walked away now…  “You’re so fucking mean to me when you’re drunk.”

Emily grinned at her submission.  She tapped the tip of her nose and laughed when Emma tried to bite her.  “I like you pliant.  Spread your legs.”

She slid half off the chair so Emma could obey, and then crawled in between her knees.  “I’m going to let your arms go.  Hold the top of the chair.”

It was a painful twist to reach the top bar, and Emma’s arms ached in that position, but she really wanted to get off, and having Emily do it for her was almost vengeance.  Emily sat back and looked at her, back arched, knees splayed open.  That was humiliating.  She might have been touching herself, but that piece of swimsuit hadn’t been that wet before Emily had climbed on top of her.  It clung to her, hiding nearly nothing.  Emily didn’t take her eyes off of her, her expression intent but flat, as if she were analyzing her attractiveness and (impossibly) finding her wanting.  Finally, still looking, and licking her lower lip just once, Emily ran her thumb up her crotch, finding and parting her folds, even through the cloth.

She kept stroking, gently increasing the pressure, going deeper into her, and Emma clung to the chair so tightly her knuckles were white and she bit her own tongue so she didn’t scream.  And then Emily was using both hands, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated.  The heel of her top hand ground into her clit while her fingers traced across the waist of the lower half of her suit.  Her other hand was making butterfly quick forays into her, pressing against her, through the material, and Emma was _so fucking close_.  And Emily’s head bent down and she pressed her mouth to the soft skin of her bare stomach and…

Blew a raspberry.

The chair flipped over.  Emily scrambled to her feet, cracking up, and Emma was going to _kill_ her.  “You will _die!_ ” 

She tried to get up, but her knees were only half working, and Emily was through the door before she managed it.  But she chased her anyway, tailing Emily’s laughter through the halls and down the stairs, shouting threats when she had the breath for it.

They burst out by the pool.  Christian and the pool boy turned to stare at them.  Emily was cornered on the inward bend of the kidney shaped pool, and Emma launched herself at her.  Emily tried to dodge, but was unsuccessful, and as one they crashed into the deep end.

The icy water was a very successful anti-aphrodisiac, and Emma surfaced, still angry, but no longer aroused.  Emily sputtered to the surface, coughing.

“You _suck_ ,” Emma told her.

Emily grinned, catching onto the side of the pool and breathing again.  She gave her an eyebrow flick and a look that burnt.  “But I don’t swallow,” she said.  And Emma laughed so much she nearly drowned.

 


	6. Riding Bareback

“You’re even worse at tennis when you’re drunk.”

Emily scowled at her and stuck the damp paper towel to her bleeding forehead.  “I’m not drunk anymore, I’m just hungover.”

“And being hungover made you whack yourself in the head with your racket.”

Emily thought that it was probably a better decision than trotting out to third base in a _lawnchair_.  If only she had had her racket earlier that morning.  But Emma kept flashing her those looks, sort of guarded, but amused, and they weren’t always at her face.

“Why are _you_ embarrassed?” Emma finally asked.  “I mean, besides for making a fool out of yourself and braining yourself with your own racket.  I was the one hanging out outside involved in… self-pleasure.”

Emily gave her a look and scowled at her unrepentant tone.  “I suppose I’m just being humiliated for both of us, since you’re _never_ ashamed of _anything_.”

“Waste of time,” Emma said, and gave her another one of those amused proprietary glances.  “You still suck.  And you _owe_ me.”

“I owe you?”

“For being a fucking tease.”

Emily almost smirked, but turned red and looked away instead.  Emma, flushed and clinging to the chair, _waiting_ for her, as if she were the only one who could finish the job, was just too tempting a target.  It served her right, at least her drunk mind had thought, for always turning away, leaving Emily aroused and humiliated, to go chase after boys, or send her off to have dinner with her _mother_.  That had been awkward.  She was so interested in ‘what Emily had been doing while she was stuck in the conference all day,’ and Emily was so _not_ interested in describing her little crisis of trying to figure out whether her mother’s friend’s daughter was actually into her, or just wanted to use her to get some safe sexual experiences with.  It was pretty clearly the second, but it was possible that there might be some of the first mixed in too.  Or she just wanted to mess with her head.  This was always a possibility.

It felt a little more real now, or at least pretty apparent that Emma wouldn’t push her away if she made a move, not that she would, because that was something that drunk Emily was a lot better at than sober Emily.  She liked being drunk.  It was… easier.  But _afterwards_ was not easier, and it had been getting progressively worse each time.  She was thought, perhaps, that spending time around Emma was a little less prone to embarrassing incident if she stayed sober.  And not whacking herself in the head with her racket was also a plus.

“It’s so fucking _boring_ here,” Emma whined.  “Swimming is boring, and staying inside is even worse.”

“I sort of wanted to walk into town.”

“Town?  What is there to do in _town_?”  Emma scowled.  “Boring.”

Emily shrugged.  Sometimes it was really easy to _not like Emma_ at all.  “I think my mom said something about the resort having a deal with some stables?”

“Oh?” Emma actually looked interested, so she wasn’t just being bored for the sake of whining about it.  “You any good?”

“What?”

“I mean, they probably just have tired nags and western saddles, but still.  I like riding.  Do you do it?”

“I- I’ve gone a couple of times.  I had lessons one summer, but we moved too much to keep it up.”

“Sucks.”  Emma grabbed her arm.  “Come on.  They’ll probably have directions at the front desk.”

They did, and apparently there was a shuttle that would drop them off.  By the time they had changed into jeans and boots, caught the shuttle, and pulled into the driveway of the stables Emily had had it clearly hammered into her head that Emma was one of those girls who _liked horses._   Emily had gone through the phase, had read _Misty of Chincoteague_ and _the Black Stallion_ , and then totally gotten over it when all the horses started _dying_ at the end.  (She had never quite recovered from _Black Beauty_.)  But Emma was on the Equestrian Team, and had the shiny knee high boots and the jacket at home, and she scrounged around her pockets until she found a hairband and tied her hair back on the way.  (She looked different with her hair back.  Less… sneaky.)

Emily hung back and let Emma take charge when she went up to the director and informed her of exactly what sort of liberties they would be allowed to take.  “There’s a trail ride in a half an hour,” he whimpered, and she just gave him a look, and with rather impressive speed they had horses and helmets and were instructed to not go beyond the fence without a guide.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to be allowed to do this?”

Emily was trying her best to remember back six years to the last time she had been on a horse, but hers was plodding faithfully after Emma’s and she didn’t actually have to do very much.

“It’s just the pastures.  I’m not going on a fucking trail ride with four year olds and fat tourists with cameras anyways.”  Emma chivvied her horse along and they headed up the hill over the dry golden fields.  There were some trees in the valley near the other end of the field.  “Let’s go there.  There might be a river.”

“It’ll be dry.”  They were trotting now, and Emily had forgotten how jarring it was.

Emma kicked her horse, encouraging it into a smooth canter.  Emily’s just trotted faster and more jarringly no matter what she did.  It wouldn’t slow down either, apparently it was unhappy with letting Emma’s horse get too far ahead.  They went into the screen of trees as they neared the dip where there might have once been a river.

“Huh, I think there’s a little water,” Emma said, peering into the riverbed.  “Maybe mud.”

“They’re having a drought,” Emily said, her horse jerking the reins out of her grasp so it could munch on the dry grass.  She bent half over the saddle to snag them and pull them up again.  She scanned the riverbank.  Dry grass, a small cluster of scrub oak, an oddly shaped rock.

“I’ll check.”

A rock, or… “Shit!  Is that a rattlesnake?”

“What!”  Emma was half off the horse, and missed her step as she swiveled to look, her foot catching in the stirrup and twisting as she fell.  “Ow!”  She managed to grab onto the saddle, and turn again to jerk her foot down and then release her other foot from the stirrup.

“Oh, it’s just a rock,” Emily realized. 

“I _hate_ you.”  Emma put weight on her caught foot and winced.

“I thought it was a snake.”  Emily looked at her.  “Are you okay?”

Emma dropped into the grass, leaning against a rock and put her hands on her ankle.  “This is _your_ fault.”

Emily quickly scrambled down from her horse, unsure of whether she was going to be able to get on again, but not really worrying about that yet.  She gathered both horses’ reins and looped them over a branch of one of the scrub oaks.  They both seemed more interested in the grass than anything else, so she didn’t worry about them.  Emma was looking rather pale.  She crouched next to her.  “You turned it?”

“If I had my real boots I wouldn’t have,” she grumbled.  “Fucking western stirrups.”

Emily put a hand on her arm.  “You want to take the boot off?”

“If it swells up I won’t get it back on again.”  Emma glared at her from under the shade of her helmet.  “I don’t think it will though.  I just turned it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed and she gave a slight huff.  “You are just trying to make me miserable, aren't you?”

Emily flushed and looked away.  She jerked up at a hard swat to her ass.  “Hey!”

“You said there was a fucking rattlesnake!” Emma smacked her harder.

“I thought there was!”  Emily protected her butt with both hands.  Emma caught her arm and jerked her down so she flopped over her lap.  Then she spanked her again.

“And you’re a fucking tease.”

“Stop it!” Emily whined, but she twisted her hands into the grass rather then protecting herself or pushing off.  Emma’s body was warm under hers, and when she peeked up to look at her, Emma’s face was slightly flushed and not from riding.  And anyways, she kind of deserved it.  Emma whacked her ass and after the sting faded it still burned slightly.  She clenched the grass more tightly, trying not to grind into her lap.

“You suck harder than my faggot of a brother.”

Emily snorted at that one, but she forgot to restrain her gasp when Emma hit her again and her hips jerked.  Emma paused.  “You’re into this.”

“What?” Emily yelped in protest.  “No way!  You’re-“  Emma spanked her again and cut her off.

“You kinda are.”  Emma grinned, and then wrapped her arm around Emily’s waist, snaking under her body, aiming for the fastening of her jeans.

“Hey!  No!  What are you-“  But Emma had unbuttoned her jeans and jerked them down as she was struggling and gave her another brisk smack through thin underwear.

It felt entirely different, and Emily froze.  Tentatively she lowered herself back into Emma’s lap.  “Go on,” she said quietly.

Emma gave a nervous laugh.  “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Just…”  Emily swallowed.  “Keep going.  I’ll tell you when I want you to stop.”

And Emma spanked her again.  This time Emily didn’t bother to swallow the small groan and the roll of her hips.  Emma’s hand roamed over her ass, sliding up under her shirt and stroking bare skin at intervals, but she kept spanking her, one at a time, until finally Emily whimpered, pressing her forehead against the ground.  “That’s enough,” she managed.  “It's enough.”

“Yeah?”

Emily pushed herself up a little, swallowing, and bringing her hand up to wipe her mouth.  Emma caught her wrist.

“Don’t.”  She pulled Emily up, over her, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the slick corner of her mouth.  Emily moaned and opened her mouth, kissing her deeply and pushing her down into the grass.  They traded wet sloppy kisses, Emma groping roughly at Emily’s sore ass.  Emily’s knee slid between her legs and Emma pushed her hips up, grinding against it.  And, well, she did owe her.  Emily sorted out her jeans, hiking them back up so she could push back properly, and she tangled her fingers in Emma’s hair, and cupped her face to keep her jaw open.  There was no finesse with these kisses, she just wanted to get as deep into her mouth as she could, take control.  But Emma was clinging to her shirt, bucking up into her, and letting herself be kissed, making uncontrolled sounds into it and sucking on her tongue when she could manage to.

And then she jerked under her, her head tipping back, breaking the kiss, her grip tightening, and Emily heard a slight rip as her shirt gave under the pressure.  She went limp.  Emily slackened her motion, resting quietly, and traced her thumb from the corner of Emma’s mouth down her chin.  Emma blinked a few times and squinted at her through drooping eyelids.

“Hey,” Emily said softly.

“You still owe me,” Emma muttered.  “Fucking rattlesnake.”

Emily laughed.

“And get off, you’re heavy.”

Emily rolled off of her and refastened her jeans.  It kind of hurt to sit and she glanced uncomfortably at the horses.  Emma got to her feet, fixed her ponytail, and tested out her ankle.  Emily hopped up and offered her an arm.  She took it with a rather amused expression on her face.

“How is it?”

“Not bad.”  Emma gave her a lazy grin.  “Most things feel better after _that_.”

Emily tried to bite down on her smile.  But Emma stepped into her and pressed a light kiss to her cheek.  Her hand snaked down to her ass and squeezed.  “Hey,” she protested, without rigor.  Emma just shook her head, still looking far too pleased with herself, and unwound the horses’ reins from the scrub oak.

“Come on.”  She swung easily up onto the horse’s back.  Emily glowered.  Her ankle was totally fine.  She managed to get on herself and winced at the hard saddle under her butt.

“Can we just… walk?” she asked.  Trotting would not be okay right now.

Emma laughed.  “Sure.” 

The horses sauntered along the edge of the pasture at an leisurely pace, close enough that the rider’s legs nearly brushed, making it easy to talk, about anything, about horses and books and school and movies. And, rather refreshingly, not about boys, or sexuality, or the myriad ways what they had just done could be used to humiliate Emily.  And when Emma flashed a grin in her direction, it was the kind that was supposed to be shared.


	7. In the Backseat

“Hey,” Christian slid into the seat opposite them with his lunch and grinned.  “You guys interested in getting out of here tonight?”

Emma glanced up, intrigued, and Emily also felt curious.  She was really getting sick of the resort.

“My friend Tony says there’s a really good place to go out on Fridays here.”

“Tony the pool boy, you mean?” Emma inquired, and Emily looked away so she didn’t blush.  Tony and six half empty mimosas had been responsible for the weird sexual games that she had started playing with Emma.

“He’s really cool,” Christian said defensively.  “He’s eighteen too, and he’s making money this summer to go to UC Davis next year.”

“I was just clarifying.  Sounds good.  You up for it?”

Emily nodded.

Of course, a couple hours later she was regretting her decision because she had no idea what she was supposed to wear.  She wished she could call Daniela and ask, but it was 5 am in Elba, and she didn’t have the phone number.  But then there was a knock at her door and Emma and Cordelia came in.

“You’re not dressed yet?”

Emily grimaced.  She was still wearing shorts and a tank top, and apparently that counted as not dressed.  Cordelia looked at her and then at the mess of the closet and nodded determinedly.

“All right.  Christian won’t let me go because he says I’m too young, but I will pick your clothes.”

“Wait-“

But Cordelia was already digging in.  She rummaged furiously through the clothes and then found the few things that she had bought with Daniela while wandering around the fashion districts of Florence.  “This!  This is awesome!”

“Ah- I don’t-“ If her mom caught her in that outfit she’d be grounded for life.  Cordelia threw it at her.  “Go change.”

It was a black dress with red satin lining.  The front had three open metal rings over the red satin insert.  They were belted to the dress with black leather straps.  The skirt was way too short and purposefully ragged at the bottom.  She had never actually worn it out, since it was too embarrassing, but when she stepped out of the bathroom in it, Emma just stood there, staring at her and chewing on her bottom lip.  Cordelia tried to get her attention for like ten seconds before she finally glanced up.

“ _Fishnets_ ,” she implied fiercely.

“I’ve only got white.  But Adrienne has black ones.  I know where she keeps them too.”

Then they set off on an expedition to steal Adrienne’s tights and Cordelia came back with a black leather choker with a lock on it.  “Very Sid and Nancy, like in Nana,” she said.  Emily gave her a rather horrified look.  Then Cordelia rummaged in her mother’s closet until she found appropriate knee high black boots.

“I feel really underdressed now,” Emma commented.  She was wearing a lacy scoop necked top that barely covered her breasts and a short skirt speckled with white sequins.  She looked a bit like a ready to be debauched angel.

“No, you’re good,” Emily murmured, without meaning to say it aloud.

It turned out that Tony drove a black Camaro and that he was bringing Manuel along as well.  Christian sat up front with him, and Manuel squished into the center seat between the girls, looking pleased with himself.  “You didn’t call me, girl,” he said to Emma.  Emma shrugged.  “This your friend?” he glanced at Emily, or rather at her breasts.

The party was in an old warehouse with a makeshift but loud speaker system.  There was no bar, but water bottles full of various substances were being passed around like candy, and there was a cluster of coolers where more were hidden.  Emma jerked her away from Manuel as soon as they got inside and found a different group of guys who offered them drinks.  Emma took one, a clear bottle, and downed half of it, only barely wincing at the burn.  The guys cheered and clapped.  She offered it to Emily who was less sure about drinking whatever shit these guys were handing out.  It was too loud to hear what she was saying, but then Emma hooked an arm around her neck and pushed her body against her, her mouth close to her ear.  Emily gaped and Emma jerked back her head and poured the liquid into her mouth.  It tasted like cheap vodka, but nothing else, and Emily had to swallow before she choked. “You bitch,” she mouthed at Emma, who grinned, and shoved the bottle into her hand.  She moved off to dance.  Emily finished the bottle.  She didn’t want to watch Emma dance with guys.  She didn’t even want to be there anymore.  It was different when they were alone, but in public there was always someone more interesting than her.  Emma loved to fuck her around.  She knew she wanted her, but wouldn’t acknowledge it until she wanted something from her, and then she’d use it.

She moved around the outskirts of the party for a while.  Turned down an offer of Cocaine and another from a goth boy of a clove cigarette to smoke with him outside.  Then she ran into Manuel.

“Hey,” he said, cornering her against the wall.  She looked for a way out, but she was trapped between the PA system and two people making out.  His breath stunk as he leaned closer to breathe on her.  “You’re hotter than your bitch of a friend.”  He still wasn’t looking at anything besides her chest.  He took hold of her arm and she froze as he moved closer to her.  “I could show you a good time.  You come outside with me.”  He kissed her then, rubbing his body against her.  She could feel the lump in his pants against her leg, and arms were like iron bars, pinning her.  She molded herself as best she could to the wall, trying to pull away.  He kissed squashy and slobbery and kept trying to press into her mouth.  “Come on,” he hissed at her, his fingers digging harshly into her arm.  “Suck my cock.  With a mouth like that you’ve got to be a slut.”

“Don’t- let _go_.”  She tried to shake him off, but he had both her arms and shoved her against the wall.  He pinned her with his body and grabbed her breast, kneading it roughly.

“You got pretty good tits for a white girl.”  And then his hand slid up her skirt.  He leaned in to kiss her again, and then there was a hand on his arm, a weight on it, and he looked over.  Emma was gripping it, half doubled over and holding her stomach.

“Shit, Emily,” she mumbled, glancing up and looking really awful.  “I think I’m going to be sick.”  She made a horrible heaving sound and Manuel nearly leapt away.  Emma almost fell into her, and Emily grabbed her, holding her up.

“I’ll take you outside, okay?”

She didn’t look back at Manuel, but he didn’t try to stop her.  They worked their way quickly towards the exit and then out into the abandoned lot that served for parking.  They stepped out, and Emma straightened up, turning to glare at her.  “You _idiot_.  How did you let him get you cornered like that?  Just kick him in the nuts if you don’t want him slobbering on you!  Or maybe you did want that jackass, want him to fuck you on the Camaro?”

“I couldn’t get him off!  He’s like three times my size, if you didn’t notice!”

“You shouldn't have gotten near him!”

“You shouldn’t have abandoned me!”

“Abandoned you?  I didn’t know I was supposed to babysit you!”

“You’re the one who needs babysitting!  You just took liquor from those guys!”

“I took the one _they_ were drinking.  It was fine, wasn’t it?”

And then Emily started to cry and wished she wasn’t.  “I _hate_ this.”

Emma looked stunned and uncomfortable.  “Sorry.  I… I should have noticed sooner that you were in trouble.”

Emily slumped to the ground next to the car.  “I didn’t want to just come to a party and hang out with people I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, Manuel isn’t the sort of person you want to hang out with even if you _do_ know him,” she muttered.  “Come on.”  She leaned down and tugged on Emily’s arm.  “Get up.  We can get in the car and lock all the doors.  Let’s find Tony and get the keys.”

Emily managed to get up and leaned on Emma, who kept an arm protectively around her.  “You could have stuck with me.”

“You didn’t seem to want me with you.  I would have interfered with your boy hunting.”

Emma’s arm tightened on her.  “You’ve got to meet people, or these parties are as boring as shit.”

They turned the corner of the building and froze.  Christian was on his knees in the scrubby dried grass with Tony’s dick in his mouth.  Tony was leaning against the wall and groaning.

“Holy shit,” Emma spat.  Christian popped off and whirled, leaving Tony’s cock bouncing in the air, shimmering slightly from the spit.  He looked horrified.

“Emma!”

“Hey, hey!  None of my business, we’ll just leave you alone.”

Now he looked worried instead of embarrassed.  “What do you need?”

“Car keys, we were going to hang out there for a bit.”  At the perfect height for it, Christian reached into Tony’s pocket of his half undone jeans and extracted the keys.  He tossed it to Emma who caught it out of the air.

“Now a bit of privacy girls?” Tony called, his eyes still closed.  “Mr. Chris here and I were in the middle of something.”

They ducked back around the edge of the building, and Emma gave Emily a _look_ , and Emily started laughing.  “Oh, come on.  You compete for phone numbers.  He wears pompom hats.  You _knew_.”

“There’s knowing and there’s _knowing_ ,” she said, but she was laughing too.  “Oh my god, his _face_.”

She unlocked the door to the Camaro and they crawled into the back seat, clicking all the locks shut around them.  Emily’s chest hurt from laughing so soon after crying, and she slumped back onto the seat, taking deep breaths.  “At least someone’s enjoying himself.”

“Yeah, Tony’s _dick.”_

Emily turned back to Emma and found her looking at her with another of those impenetrable expressions on her face.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  Emma glanced away.  “It's just.  You look really hot.  It’s too bad you didn’t have fun.”

“Are those things supposed to be correlated?” Emily asked.  The vodka was still heavy in her system.  It made her tired.  She sighed.  “You look good too.  If you want to go back in, I’ll be fine here.”

Emma shoved her.  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey!”  Emily rubbed her arm. “That hurts.  It's where he-“ she stopped.  That was where Manuel had grabbed her.  Emma looked at her, and reached out more gently.

“He touched you there.”  Emily nodded.  Emma’s fingers curled around her arm, still soft and gentle.  She moved towards Emily, her body hovering barely an inch away from hers.  “He put his dirty mouth on you too.”  Emily nodded, almost hoping, and then Emma leaned in and pressed her lips gently against Emily’s.  She released the kiss softly, and Emily kept her eyes closed, wishing it would go on.  “And I saw him…”  Her hand curled around Emily’s breast, soft and slow, her thumb rubbing a slow curve over it.  She pressed her lips to Emily’s neck, kissing softly, lightly.

“He didn’t do that,” Emily murmured.

“Forget about him.”

That was incredibly easy to do with Emma so close, touching her.  She kissed her again, settling into her lap in the tight confines of the Camaro’s backseat, parting her lips, and exploring Emily’s mouth with her tongue.  Both her hands were on Emily’s breasts.  “Fuck, they’re so soft,” she murmured into her mouth.  “You’re so soft.”

Emily’s hands curled around her, one on the back of her head, the other at the small of her back, keeping her there, keeping her close.  Emma’s hand slid up her skirt, and then between her legs, skating over the smooth skin and rough fishnets to touch her through her underwear.  Emily let out a choked breath, and then, suddenly, determinedly, Emma was moving.  She was shifting Emily to the side so that she leaned half against the door, and then hiked up her skirt to find the top of her tights and underwear.

“Hey, what are you-“

“I want to.”  Emma looked up and looked worried.  “Is it okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily almost laughed.  But then Emma was jerking down her tights, lifting her hips just enough to get them off, and dragged them down to her knees.  Emma slid awkwardly down below the seat and popped up through Emily’s legs.  It was horribly uncomfortable, probably for both of them, and they shuffled for a minute to try and find something manageable, and then Emma slid her hands over the inside of Emily’s bare thighs, parted her lips with her thumbs, leaned in, and _licked_.

“Holy _fuck_.”  Emily’s fingers sank into the seat and she bit down on her lip, trying not to move.  Emma breathed hot against her, and dragged the flat of her tongue up, and Emily’s head went back, banging against the window, and she whimpered.  Emma laughed, licked her lips, and swallowed, before nuzzling in again, her nose pressing against her clit as her tongue flicked in and out.  She licked and circled and sucked, and pushed her tongue deep into her, fucking her with it, slow and easy, as Emily thrashed and kicked her in the back.  She couldn’t think, just dig her fingers into the seat and squeeze her eyes shut as every deep wet-sandpaper stroke of her tongue made her hardly able to _breathe_.

“Shit, we have to stop,” Emma said eventually, lifting her head.

“What?” Emily blinked, confused.

“My back is killing me.  Hold onto something.”  They shuffled around again.  Emily wedged herself between the two front seats, and Emma crawled in between her legs, swallowed twice to work up more spit, and then leaned back in for more.  Emily’s fingers tangled in her hair.  Everything was wet and slick and Emma could get even deeper at this angle, and she curled her tongue around her clit and then _sucked_.

“Oh _fuck_ , Emma!” and Emily let go of her hair and flailed out, digging her nails into the sides of both seats, banging her head on the gear shift, her hips jerking up, and keening out a groan as Emma pushed her tongue in one last time and she came, whacking her in the back with her heel again.

Emma pulled back, licking her lips and looking at her.  “Mmm,” she said, grinning and amused.  “You come like Jesus.”

Emily propped herself up on her elbows.  “What?” she asked, unsure if she had actually heard that correctly.

“You know,” Emma flailed her arms out in imitation,  “Like you’re ready to get nailed to the cross.”  She grinned.  “Or just nailed.”

Emily snorted, and pushed herself through the channel back onto the backseat.  “You have the worst sense of humor ever.”  She futzed with her tights, trying to pull them back up, but she was sticky and they were twisted around awkwardly.

“Just get them off.”  Emma pulled her boots off.  “We should have done this first.  I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.”  Then she worked the tights off and underwear.

“Hey!  Give those back!”

“I don’t think so.”  Emma grinned and held them up out of reach.  Emily clambered on top of her to grab them out of her hand, and Emma dropped them between their bodies and then slid both her hands up Emily skirt, groping her ass.  “Forget about those,” Emma said, squeezing.  “Make out with me.”

“Okay.”  Emily smiled, and ran her thumbs over the shells of her ears, then leaned in to kiss her.


	8. Play with Fire

Cordelia wanted her hair dyed.  This sounded like fun, and Emma told Emily in the locker room after tennis practice (where she had spent the entire time laughing at Emily’s flailing attempts to serve) that she was riding shotgun and they were going into town to find the requisite materials.

Emily didn’t mind going into town, but she was not interested in getting caught with the blame for something that was sure to backfire, especially when she heard that Cordelia wanted it half purple and half green.  Emma sauntered up to her, in just her bra, and said.  “I’ll let you get to second base.”

In the locker rooms Emily had found that although Emma’s breasts were small, they were actually kind of perfect.

“Did you forget that I’ve already made it home?” Emily inquired, trying unsuccessfully from keeping her eyes from dropping to her waist.

“It was through fabric, and you blew it,” Emma told her.  “That means it was only third, and it doesn’t count.”

“So this is without fabric?”

“Sure.”

Emily furrowed her brow.  “You do know that this could technically be considered prostitution.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Is there any money changing hands?  This is called _being a woman_.”

Emily laughed.  She had no idea where Emma had gotten this way of operating, but didn’t care, as long as she didn’t have to live there.  So when they got dressed they found Cordelia and walked into town.

The CVS didn’t have what Cordelia was looking for so they went looking for a less reputable area and wandered into a Hispanic neighborhood.  Emily started sniffing and followed her nose to a small shop called the Taco Factory.  “Now we’re in Sacramento!”

“Are you serious?” Emma asked.  “You want to eat in this hole?”

“The seedier it looks, the better the food,” Emily told her, and pushed the way in.  She ordered for everyone and they sat at the half falling apart wicker table to eat freshly made tacos and rice and beans.

“This is good!” Cordelia said in surprise, and Emma stopped picking stiffly and actually tried it.  Emily laughed at them both and started talking to Cordelia.  She was kind of an interesting kid, reading way beyond her age group, and she took Emily’s recommendations seriously.  Emma blinked at a lot of their conversation, looking kind of surprised as Emily drew her sister out. 

“You read _Confessions of a Mask_?”

Cordelia gave a shrug.  “Yeah, it was pretty cool.”

“What about _Forbidden_ _Colors_?  That one was crazy.”  Emily grinned, half leaning over the table.  Emma sat back, rather thrown.

Cordelia shook her head.  “I started _the Makioka Sisters_ , but I didn’t get into it.”

Emily nodded.  “You might like _the Key_ better.  Have you tried it?”

“Where do you guys find this shit?  Seriously?” Emma snapped.

When they left the factory, Cordelia turned to Emma and said, “I like your girlfriend better than you.”

Emma tripped over her own feet.  Cordelia laughed at her, and Emma smacked her lightly on the head.

*            *            *

“I want it green in front and purple in back.”

Emily glanced over it, considering.  “Like green bangs?”

“Yeah.”

Emma laughed as she mixed the batch in the sink.  “Dad is going to kill you.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes.  “Like he did when Addy wore that skirt for the first time?”

“Skirt?” Emily inquired.

“More like lack of skirt.”  Emma shook her head.  “There are some things you can sneak out in, and some things that you wear to lunch at Daddy’s club.  She kind of got them mixed up.”

*            *            *

“Is your dad usually that psychotic?”  Emily was impressed.  Cordelia had been incredibly cool in the face of his screaming rampage, but she was the little one, Emma told her, she got off easy usually, and if her father caught Emma with purple fingers, she was the one who would get it.

“Yeah, you just have to stay out of his way until he cools down.”

“Oh.” Emily sat back, letting the hanging clothes brush against her face.  She glanced over at Emma, her quiet sort of sad expression, fingers twisting in the loose silk of a bathrobe.  “You were embarrassed when she called me your girlfriend.”

Emma shrugged.  They were sitting in the walk in closet in Emma and Cordelia’s room, hiding from Emma’s father who was on a rampage.  It was dim and quiet and felt private.  “Well, you’re not, are you?  We’re just… fooling around.”

She sounded as unsure about that as Emily felt.  “You can be my summer girlfriend,” Emily offered.

“Huh?”

Emily laughed weakly.  “My roommate at school, Daniela, she told me that I needed a summer girlfriend, well, boyfriend, because girls are trouble.” 

Emma snorted.  “True enough.”

“It’s like in Grease.  You can be whoever you feel like being, and then just put it away when you go home, go back to normal.”

“That sounds… convenient.”

“Yeah?”

Emma glanced over, oddly shy.  “Want to be my summer girlfriend?”

Emily laughed.  “Oh, we're making it official?  Okay.  I’m fine with that.”

Emma glared.  “You are totally not convincing me that you deserve second base.”

“Hey, you promised!  I have green fingertips because of you!”

Emma snorted.  “Fine, fine!”  She pulled off her shirt and unfastened her bra.  “But I ate at your horrible hole in the wall.”

“It was good!”

“If I admit that it was good…”

Emily grinned, glancing sidelong at Emma’ chest.  She was cupping her breasts, to keep them out of view, but there was skin enough to make her stomach flip.  “Fine.  I really want to be your summer girlfriend.”  She turned towards Emma, and Emma slowly started to let her hands slip away.  “Because I want to do really dirty things to you.”

“Go for it,” Emma whispered, making the closet seem darker and quieter.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, her voice dropping half way through, making her flush.  “Whatever.  You _are_ my fucking girlfriend.”

“Awesome.”  Emily moved in, running her hand up the soft skin of her back, and kissing her.  Emma’s fingers curled tightly into her hair as she kissed back harder, parting her lips to let Emily in.  Her fingers slid up to curl around the curve of her breast, and Emma gasped slightly, into the kiss, and god, that little sound just made Emily want to grind into her and fuck her like a boy.

She didn’t.  Instead she circled her thumb around her nipple, and Emma made an unladylike sob, and bit down on Emily’s lower lip.  That _hurt_. 

“Ow.”  She cupped her lip, wiping it and checking for blood.  It seemed intact.

She pushed herself up, moving over Emma and laying her down until she was lying on the pile of haphazardly tossed aside jackets.  She used both hands, just touching, and Emma was thrashing under her, more than she had when Emily had had her hand between her legs.

“Use your mouth!” Emma hissed at her.  “I want your fucking _mouth_.”

Emily ducked down, catching a nipple between her lips and then licking, laving up the whole thing with a broad swipe of her tongue, and Emma cried out, pumping her hips up into her.  They weren’t that big, and so soft, and Emily lowered her head even further and slowly sucked the whole breast into her mouth.

“Oh _fuck_!”  And Emma was clawing up her back.  Swimming was going to _sting_ tomorrow.  And she tweaked her other nipple, and Emma’s hips shuddered underneath her, and she gasped out a low moan, her head tipping back painfully.

Emily let her breast loose and nuzzled into it, sliding her face up the spit-slick curve.  Emma groaned, and breathed out slowly.  “Fucking _hell_ , Emily,” she muttered.  “I think I came from that.”  Emily grinned down at her, feeling rather pleased with herself, and Emma glared at her through narrowed eyes.  “Don’t think you’re getting away with it.”

Emma caught her head and pulled her down, kissing her, deep and wet and insolent, and Emily really couldn’t consider this punishment at all.


	9. Deep Impact

“Yeah, Emma’s dating her,” Cordelia said, pushing back her new bright hair lazily.  “It’s kind of weird, but I like her, so as long as she hangs out with me too, it’s fine.”

Emily, walking into the breakfast room, froze as she overheard the words, and met Adrienne’s amused gaze.  “So you’re dating my little sister?”

“Uhhh.”  The fact was, yes, they had decided to go out, sort of, but they had clearly made _no_ decisions about broadcasting it to everyone.

But then Christian turned up behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “Aww, is it official?  Me and Tony sort of figured it out when you were asleep on her lap in the backseat of the car.”  Emily flushed red.  She just hoped he wasn’t going to follow it up with ‘with no underwear on’ but thankfully, he didn’t.

Then Emma walked in, glanced around, and seemed to immediately suss out the situation.  She looked at Adrienne, her expression hard but her face just a little whiter than usual.

“Aww, Emma,” Adrienne cooed.  “You’re growing up.  You’ve got your own little girlfriend.  Maybe someday you’ll be a real boy.”

“Addy,” Emma said, her voice expressionless but also shaky.  “If you tell father, I’ll-“

“I’ll tell him your lying,” Cordelia cut in.

“I’ll tell him you’re lying too,” Christian added, his expression firm.

Adrienne’s eyes narrowed, and then she put on a look of offended innocence.  She stood, starting towards the door that Emma had just come through.  “Do you really think I would get my own sister kicked out of the house on a _whim_?”  She caught Cordelia’s chin, pinching it tightly and forced her to shake her head.  “Of course not.”  Then she walked on to where Emily and Christian were standing.  “Not when there’s so much fun I can have with her pretty little girlfriend.”  Adrienne twirled her finger around a lock of Emily’s hair, twisting it and tugging it towards her, forcing Emily to look at her.  “And she is kind of pretty, isn’t she?”  Adrienne’s eyes darkened and she flashed a tight predatory smile.  “When you get her to look at your face and not at the ground at least,” she added dismissively.  “Emma always did like the shy ones.  It’s just too bad they never liked her for long.”  She strode out of the room, hips swinging, not even looking at Emma as she passed her.

Emma looked like she had been punched.  This was something Emily was even less prepared for.  Adrienne had seemed aloof before, but she hadn’t seemed _awful_ , and she couldn’t help thinking about how she had said she didn’t want to get Emma kicked out ‘on a whim,’ but if she had a reason?  And this was clearly a family thing and she really wished it didn’t have anything to do with her.  But it blatantly did, and she took a hesitant step towards Emma.

But then Emma’s face changed.  She _snarled_ at the three people left in the room.

“What happened?  Who _told her_?”

Cordelia looked a little like she was about to cry.  “She _asked_ okay, she asked if you and ‘the Prentiss girl’ were dating.”

“And you told her _yes_?”  Emma lunged for her little sister.  She looked like she was really going to hurt her.  Emily grabbed her arm.

“Hey!  Calm down!”

“You’re telling me to fucking calm down?  What the fuck do you know about any of this?”

“I know you need to calm down!  She’s not going to tell your dad!”

“Yeah, not until she decides she hates me and wants me gone!”

“We won’t let her make dad throw you out.”  Christian tried to soothe her.  But it _so_ wasn’t working.  Emma jerked in Emily’s grip, trying to go for him now.

“And when she pulls out her proof that you’re a cocksucking faggot?  How are you going to help me then?”

“Emma!”

“Let _go_ of me!” Emma jerked around in Emily’s grip and swung.  Her open hand connected with Emily’s face with a loud crack.  Emma froze.  Emily gaped, cupping her cheek.

Cordelia snorted and clapped.  “And the award for shortest relationship ever goes to-.”

But Emily wasn’t hurt; she was _pissed_.  “Calm the fuck down when I tell you to, okay!”

Emma cringed.

“Girls…” Christian tried to intervene, but he was ignored.

“Come with me, now.”  Emily caught Emma by the hair and dragged her out of the breakfast room and halfway up the stairs until she was following obediently, and led her to her room.  Her mom had already left for the conference so it was empty.

“Sit.”  Emily shoved her towards a bed.  Emma dropped onto one and pulled her knees up to her chest, rubbing the heel over her hand over her eyes.  Emily slipped into the bathroom and ran cold water over a washcloth and then wrung it out.  She brought it out and gave it to Emma who was pointedly trying not to sniffle.

“I hate her,” Emma muttered, the washcloth pressed to her face.  “She does everything she can to make my life miserable.”

“Both your other siblings stood up for you though,” Emily said, moving onto the bed next to her and feeling utterly un-cut-out for this.  “That was kind of cool.”

Emma glared.  “They did it because they like _you_.”  She shook her head.  “They both like you better than me.”

“They didn’t offer to lie to your dad because they like _me_.”  Emily let her hand rest on the top of Emma’s back and felt her flinch.  She thought of something Daniela would say and gave it a shot.  “Although I am,” she grimaced but kept going.  “You know, kind of awesome, um, sometimes.”

Emma gave her a long, completely disbelieving look.  “You are _so_ unconvincing.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

Emma flinched.  “I didn’t mean to slap you.”

Emily nodded.  “I know.”

“You could hit me back?” Emma suggested, oddly hopeful.

Emily laughed.  She wasn’t going to waste that on making Emma feel less guilty.  “When I hit you, I’m going to mean it.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, not looking forward to that.”

They sat for a moment in silence, Emily still not sure what she was going to say.  She knew what she wanted to say, and what she needed to ask, and they weren’t really the same thing at all.  “Are you really scared your dad will flip out if he finds out about this?”

Emma shrugged roughly, stiff and tensed.  “I don’t care what he does to me.  He can’t fucking control me.”

That was kind of an answer.

“Okay.”  Emily glanced down at her hands and then up again, something that was almost a smile on her face.  “So, we have like an hour before tennis.”

Emma glanced over at her, her brow furrowed.  “What?”

“Lie down,” Emily instructed.  “On your stomach.”  Emma gave her a very suspicious look.  Emily gave her shoulder a push.  “Just do what I say.  I thought we went over this already.”

Emma glowered, but lay down on her stomach.  “I know my brother wiggles his ass for the pool boy, but just seriously, no, I am not into that.”

Emily laughed and climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.  “Shut up.”  She caught the bottom hem of her tank top and scrunched it up her body, baring the skin of her back.  “Up,” she said.  And Emma lifted slightly, raising her arms so Emily could get her shirt off.  She dropped it next to them on the bed and then her hands curled around the base of Emma’s neck.  Then she pressed in, rolling her hands into the tense muscles.

“Oh,” Emma mumbled into the comforter.

Emily leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of her ear.  “To help you relax, because if you go play when you’re this tense, you’re going to be worse than me.  And I really don’t need you to whack me in the face _again_ , particularly not with a racket _._ ”

Emma laughed, sinking happily into the mattress, and making small pleased noises as Emily worked down her shoulders.

“You know,” she mumbled, a little later, kind of strung out from the massage.  “You really are kind of awesome.  I think I’m going to keep you.”

“Oh thanks,” Emily said, rather amused.

Emma peered up at her through the corner of her eye.  “You can grind a little harder into my ass if you want,” she pronounced grandly.  “’Cause I’m kind of ready for phase two.”

Emily sat back and crossed her arms, giving her a look.  “Hey!  This isn’t the sort of massage parlor that gives sexual favors.”

Emma managed to turn over under her, and looked at her, arching an eyebrow incredulously.  “Um, yes it is.  So get moving spa girl.”


	10. Going Commando

“Hello short skirt!” Emma exclaimed, amused and went up to Emily, fluffing the loose skirt of her flowered sundress.  Emily yelped and held the skirt tightly down, but it was a bit late.  “Holy…”  Emma grinned.  “No underwear?”  She grinned wider.  “In a skirt?”

“It’s your _fault_ ,” Emily snapped.  “I have sunburn on my ass.”

“Hey, you were the one who fell asleep outside with your pants down.”  Emma moved close to her and ran her hand up the back of Emily’s thigh.  “Sure you don’t need me to rub some lotion in?”

Emily smacked her hand away.  “I’ve had enough of you touching my ass for a lifetime.”

“It was _so_ hot,” Emma purred.  “I’d be gentle.”

“And why don’t I believe you?”

Emma considered this.  “Because you know me?”

Emily looked at her for a long moment.  It was odd, but she _did_ know her.  For someone she had met barely more than a week ago, Emma was easy.  She was pretty and crazy and horny all the time.  “Maybe I do.”

Emma grinned.  “You want to get out of here?  We could go downtown, poke around, eat at one of your nasty little authentic restaurants.”

Emily snorted.  “You’re _offering_?”

“What?  It sounds like fun.”

Emily stared at her for a moment.  It _did_ sound like fun, for _her_.  It was almost as if Emma was saying that doing something that will make you happy, will… No, she couldn’t read too much into it.  “There could be shopping.”

Emma laughed, leaning over to pick up her shoulder bag.  “Well, you know I’m always up for shopping.”

She wasn’t quite so up for the small church Emily stopped outside that evening.  Adobe, with tiled roofs, and a plaster Mary in an alcove surrounded by bright gaudy flowers, and there was noise coming from inside that was not like any church music Emma (a not incredibly strict Episcopalian) had ever heard.  Emily tugged her through the archway.

“Wait?  Seriously?  Church?”

But inside the courtyard was like a party.  There was a priest, waving around a censer, but there was a mariachi band, and an old lady in a wheelchair passing out flowers, and tons of food, and Emily just went right up to the old lady and started talking to her in some sort of pidgin italo-spanglish.  And then she kissed the old lady on the cheek, just like that, and popped up with two flowers, coming back to Emma.

“It’s the church’s name saint day.  It’s a party!”

“It’s not really my kind of party,” Emma said, glancing around uncomfortably.

Emily laughed and patted her cheek.  “Stop being so shy.”

“Shy?” Emma was offended, and then she laughed.  “Well, I suppose I must be shy compared to the person who isn’t wearing any underwear in _church_.”

Emily blushed red.

The food was actually excellent, and the band was good, they danced as the sun was setting.  Emily’s hands curled around her waist and Emma moved closer to her, tangling her fingers in her hair.  And then she ducked her eyes, and Emily blinked, surprised.  Her expression was different, not the one that meant she was going to go for her skirt and molest her in public, but a half-embarrassed grin.  “I had a good time today,” she said softly.

Emily looked at her, unable to form coherent words, or keep moving.  Was today a date?  “Oh.”

And Emma darted in, pressing a light kiss half on her cheek and half on her mouth.  She pulled away, grinning.  “I hope that wasn’t too shocking for the abuela.”

“Since when do you care if poor old people are shocked?”

“I don’t want her to not like you anymore.”

Emily stared at her, and then laughed, pressing her own kiss to Emma’s cheek, nearly at her ear.  “I think I need to take you home with me.”

“I’ve already met your mother.”

“Yeah.  _Not_ for that.”

*            *            *


	11. First Time Fireworks

Emily was having breakfast with them now.  She was talking to Christian happily and trying to convince Cordelia that fireworks were fun, and that she shouldn’t be so blasé about everything.  Her line of argument seemed to be that they were doing them over fields of dry grass, and every spark was a chance for the entire city to go up in flames.  Emma wished her the best in her endeavor, but really really wished she wasn’t across the table right now.  Adrienne had her sunglasses on and was lying back, having a mimosa that she had seduced a waiter into bringing her, and was entirely zoned out of the world.  Emma wished she could imitate that.  But she just felt sick to her stomach and pushed the horrible eggs around on her plate.

“Are you all right?”

Emily was _looking_ at her now, looking worried.  Emma stiffened.

“I’m fine. God!  Don’t you have your own family?  Why do you have to cling to us all the time?!”

Emma stood up, half tripping over her chair when it didn’t shove back easily, and turned and stormed out of the dining room.  As she left she heard Cordelia yawn.

“Oh, is Emma crazy again today?”

*            *            *

“Emz, what’s wrong?”  Christian cornered her in the hallway upstairs.  “I asked Emily if you guys had had a fight, but she said no, and that you had been really nice to her yesterday, and she probably should have expected a backlash.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “She knows you _way_ too well.”

Emma sighed and leaned back against the wall, cupping her fingers against her forehead.  “I… I’ve just been out of sorts today.  I didn’t sleep last night.  And… god!”  Emma thumped the wall.  “I’ve been with her like twenty-four seven since we got here!  Can’t I get a break?”

Christian stared at her.  “From being glued to her lips?”

Emma scowled.  “Fuck off!”

“Oookay,” Christian raised his hands in surrender.  “I’ll leave you alone.”

He started to go and Emma grabbed his arm.  “No.”

“No?”

“Come inside.”  Emma pulled him into her and Cordelia’s room and then left him in the corner as she kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the bed.  “This sucks,” she said flatly.

“Um?  That you have a girlfriend who gives you lots of attention?”

“No.”  Emma narrowed her eyes at him.  “Guess again.”

“Why don’t you use your words?”  But Christian came and sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.  “Just talk.”  He lay back, pulling her onto his chest.  Emma stared up at the ceiling, still stiff as a plank, not ready to be comforted.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?” she asked, her voice coming out like a frown.  “Not… where do you want to be, but where do you actually think you’ll be?”

Christian considered this.  “You want the pessimist’s view of the future?”

“The realist’s.”

“Mhm.”  He stretched.  “Well, lets see.  I’ll be twenty eight, and just as gorgeous.”  Emma snorted.  “And I’ll have a job?  Hopefully.”

“Love life?”

“I can’t really predict that.  Maybe I’ll be with someone and maybe I won’t.”

Emma sighed.  “But if you are with someone, will it be a guy?”

“Unless daddy pulls some serious blackmail on me, _yeah_.  Are you having a gay crisis, Emma?”

“No.”  Emma scowled at him.

“Are you sure?  It doesn’t _have_ to mean anything.  Girls aren’t so horribly stigmatized if they go there and then decide to come back.  And bi is hot.”

Emma shoved off of him.  “That isn’t the problem!”

“Then _tell_ me what is!”

“Get out!”  Emma hit him with a pillow, and Christian retreated out the door, hands braced to protect his head.  She slammed the door behind him.

“Yes,” he told Emily later.  “She’s having a psychotic episode.  Don’t worry about it, she’ll come round in a day or so.”

*            *            *

Emma didn’t look at her.  She didn’t need to see Emily making sad eyes in her direction.  She just needed… time, or perspective, or something.  Or maybe…

You see, Emma’s never liked anyone before, that’s the real problem, the one that’s too embarrassing to say, and she doesn’t know how to calibrate this.  And really, the other problem is that she’s never had anyone like _her_ before, no one who would smile just because she came into the room, and really, it makes her ill that smile, because it’s so underserved, so irrational, and she’s jealous, because it’s like she’s the only one who doesn’t _know_ , or at least doesn’t know and still thinks it matters.  And she’s scared, but it’s not like she was going to admit that.

Maybe Emma needed Jake.  He had shown up a few days before, red trunks billowing in the swimming pool and shaggy hair that he didn’t want to get wet.  And she hadn’t cared.  She hadn’t even noticed him until Cordelia pointed him out at lunch, said he was cute, and she had glanced at him, half registering his features, they were sort of normal, and made a noncommital noise since her mouth was full.  Cordelia had rolled her eyes.  “God, I didn’t think one girlfriend would _turn_ you,” she had said.  And Emma had choked, and coughed her mouthful into a napkin, whacked Cordelia in the back of the head, and headed to the bathroom to wash her face.

There were fireworks that night.  The State was too broke to pay for them, but the resort wasn’t and took it upon itself to light up the darkness with colored bursts.  The guests gathered on the rooftops, standing in groups, ooing and aahing.  Emma leaned against the wall near the door and didn’t look up.  The thunderous noise like gunshots shook the world.  She was grateful for the deafening bursts.  She didn’t have to _think_ with them shaking her head.  She didn’t have to walk that tightrope of not knowing.

 “Bored?” asked the boy with his shorts slipping down his flat ass and red-tipped hair in his eyes.  The answer to that, Emma knew, was always yes.  And maybe he was into her because it was dark, and it wasn’t like it was New Year or anything, but holidays were always shitty when you spend them with your family, and he knew that.  Emma said “yeah” and “how long are you here for?” and “where are you from?” and she was happy to find out that he was leaving in two days, and that he lived in Oklahoma, and she kissed him, because there were fireworks, and alcohol, and her life was falling apart.

And then Emma realized that she’d never actually seen Emily angry before, irritated and drunk and pissed off, yeah, but not _angry_.  And it was scary, because she was cool and calm, and it reminded her of her dad, and you never wanted to see Emma’s dad get cool and calm, because when he blew the explosion was so much worse than you had expected.  It was something you never saw coming, and it could knock you over so hard that you wouldn’t know if you were ever going to get back up.

“What was that?”

Emma shrugged, looking away with pinched lips.  “Jealous?”

And Emily hit her, a sharp jab to the face, splitting her lip.  Emma didn’t notice the pain at first, too shocked at how nerdy klutzy Emily can throw a punch.  And then she was pissed, because it fucking hurt, and she was holding her face, and she was _not_ about to take that from anyone who wasn’t her father.

“Are you some kind of _whore_?”

And Emma lunged for her, hands on her neck, clawing, and they stumbled, falling into the hedge, and this was really stupid for them to be fighting on a _roof_ , and if that hedge had just happened to have a hole in it right there, they could both be dead now, and Emma grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.  And… “God!  Just- just understand!” and she was crying, and she didn’t want to be crying, but they could have been _dead_ , “I can’t-“

And Emily was looking at her mouth, sort of stricken, and she held Emma’s shoulders back, too tightly, but didn’t shake her.  “Just _say_ it!” she cursed.  And for the first time words came.

“I had the chance to kiss a cute boy, I _took_ it.” And she shouldn’t have been crying while she was saying this, but she couldn’t stop it, and her lip was fucking _throbbing_ , and maybe she deserved it.  “That’s what summer’s supposed to be about, isn’t it?  _Doing_ shit so I can tell people, oh, I kissed a cute guy this summer, on the fourth of July, under the fireworks, not I…” she choked and swallowed and went on. “I went all the way with some weird girl, and I-”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“And I’m never going to see her again!” Emma shouted over her.  “I’m never going to see you again, and you come in here and fuck up my life, and then you’re gone, back to fucking Italy, and someone _nicer_ than me, and I don’t even know if you _like_ me!  You said you didn’t, you didn’t like me at all, and it was supposed to be fine, just fucking you, because I didn’t _care_ -“

“I like you.”  Emily touched her face, and Emma looked up and stopped raging at the world.  “I like you, Emma.”  She sounded hurt.  “Not at first, maybe, but I really do.  You’re not someone I want to get away from, and I don’t usually spend time with people I don’t like.  And yesterday… I like you, and I wish… I wish there was a more emphatic way to say that.”  She caught her hand.  “Ski da yo.” 

Emma stared at her.  “Is that Japanese?  Are you trying to seduce me in Japanese?”

Emily flushed and looked away.  “I wasn’t really trying to seduce you.  Not after punching you in the _face_.”

Emma wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and glanced at the smear of blood.  “At least you didn’t get the nose.  My father grounded me for a month when he found out how much it cost to have it reset after he broke it.”

Emily looked stricken in her direction for way too long, and then finally caught her arm and pulled her towards the doors heading inside.  “Come on.  Let’s wash that off.  Destroy the evidence.”

Emma hung back a little, and in the hall Emily glanced back at her, worried and self-recriminating and looking generally like she was the one who’d been punched in the face.  “You said you like me.”

Emily nodded.

“Do you think that will change?”

“Not… dramatically.”

Emma considered this.  She might be wrong of course, but it was worth a shot.  “So if I called you in say, ten years, and said ‘my life sucks, I don’t have any friends, and my parents threw me out,’ would you… offer me a place to stay?”

Emily looked incredulous.  “Mightn’t we prepare for the apocalypse while we’re at it?”

“I’m not-“ Emma swallowed.  “I’m not just joking around here.  Give me an answer!”

“Of course,” Emily said.  “Even if you were in _half_ that much of a mess.”

“Is that what you meant, when you said you knew they’d help if you were drowning.”

Emily flipped back hurriedly to one of the earliest conversations they had had.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So you’re my friend.”

Emily let out a small huff of laughter.  “Yeah.  I’m your friend.”

“Okay,” Emma says, and she hated the way her voice sounded, small and needy in the dim hallway.  Emily put her arms around her and squeezed tighter than she should, and she pressed her head into Emma’s shoulder, and Emma thought, ‘she’s probably getting blood on the shoulder of her dress,’ but didn’t much care.  Stains are important, like scars.  They make you keep the memory.

After that, she let Emily pull her into the bathroom and wash her face.  She cleaned her lip, but spent a humiliating amount of time wiping tear tracks out from under her eyes.

“You know,” Emma said, softly, as she had the cloth pressed to her cheek.  “Your roommate’s summer girlfriend idea is shit.”

“It is?”

“It’s based on Grease right?”

And Emily laughed, like she had been nervous and wasn’t anymore.  “Yeah.”

“You can’t… you can’t just have that summer and then leave it all behind.  Go back like nothing is different.”

“You can’t?”

“No!”  Emma caught her wrist and pulled the rag down.  “Like Sandy, the girl, right?  She thought she could.  She just wanted to go to school, make her parents happy, whatever sort of thing a good girl wants.  And she tries.  But that’s the whole point of the story, isn’t it?  That the seeds have been planted, and _nothing_ is ever going to be the same.”

“Oh,” said Emily.  “Yeah, I guess that is what the movie’s supposed to be about.”

“Fuck,” Emma muttered, barely audibly, not looking at her.  “I really wanted to be Danny Zuko.”

*            *            *


	12. Skinny Dipping

The tapping on the door woke Emily.  She hadn’t been sleeping too deeply, since her mother, in the other bed, was snoring lightly, and the lights outside were keeping her awake.  She was also stressing about the fight she had had with Emma, guilty but still angry.

Still, when the knock came on the door, Emily slipped out of bed and padded over to open it.  Emma was on the other side, in the dim hallway, smiling wickedly.  “Come swimming with us.  We’re going to break into the pool.”

“It’s 3 am!”

“So?”

“My suit is in the wash.”

“Suits aren’t necessary,” came a voice from the distance.  It sounded like Adrienne.  If _everyone_ was coming…

“Or are you chicken?”

Emily knew her face was red, but she ducked back in to grab the key, then slipped out of the door, closing it gently behind her.  If her mom woke to find her gone she’d be in so much trouble.  Somehow that thought made her feel more excited about the adventure than she had been.

Christian was already down by the pool, picking the lock on the gates.  He flashed Emily a smile in the dark.  Cordelia hooked an arm through hers and had tugged her down the stairs.  Emma hadn’t really met her eyes, but she was talking to her, so that was good.  The lock clicked and Christian hurried them all through, closing the gate behind them, but not locking it.

It was a little awkward to be the only one who wasn’t related, but Adrienne started stripping off first.  It was dark enough that most of her body was in shadow, but the light came from behind and silhouetted her figure.  It was… very watchable.  Emily didn’t realize she was keeping her eyes on her, hoping she would turn to the side, until she got a sharp elbow in the stomach.

“Cut it out, pervert.”

Emily scowled at Emma, rubbing her stomach.  She pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her pajama bottoms and gave her a hard look.  “Jealous I’m not looking at you?”

Emma shoved her, and she went in with a splash.

“Hey!  Quiet!  We don’t want to get caught!”

It was freezing, and Emily surfaced shivering, her skin chilled under her own fingers.  It was really strange to be naked there, even in the dark.  Adrienne had already slipped in.  Emily held still and could feel the ripples brushing her skin.  Cordelia dipped her foot in.  “It’s _cold_ ,” she whined.

“Chicken,” Emma murmured.  Emily leaned back watching her move across the deck, the light reflecting off pale skin.  She crouched on the edge and dove in, headfirst.  Christian stripped off his shorts and hopped in with a small splash.  Cordelia stood in the shallow end, arms crossed, shivering.

“I know,” Christian said quietly.  “We should play underwater tag?”

“You want to play tag naked?” Adrienne asked archly, but she laughed.  “You just want to get tagged in a certain place.  It’s too bad you’re the only boy, baby brother.”

Christian grinned sheepishly.  “I think it would be fun.  It’s hard to see people when they’re underwater.”  He looked at Cordelia.  “You have to stay in the shallow end though.”

“Aww!  That’s not fair!  I’m on the swim team, jerk!”

“You’re still little!”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t swim!”

“I have a solution,” Emma cut in.  “Cordelia’s it.”

“Hey!” Cordelia yelped, and there were four splashes as everyone else went under water.

  1. “Sorry,” she whispered.



“Getting bored with little sis?” Adrienne grinned and made a move towards her.  Emily forgot how to stay afloat and inhaled a big huff of water.  Luckily then there was the splashing of Cordelia making a move towards them, and Emily had an excuse to duck under and try to swim away.  She was tagged, but it was better than dealing with Adrienne.

She tagged Christian, and he surfaced, shaking the water out of her hair with an “Ooh, that was a close one!”

“It was your leg!  I know!  It was hairy!”

“That’s not the only thing that’s hairy,” Adrienne called over.  She heard Emma laughing and Emily ducked under water to cool her red cheeks.  Christian caught Emma, and dragged her by the foot over to the diving board.

“You suck!”

“You shouldn’t have laughed.”

Emma cornered Emily behind the ladder, and then stopped, turning back to go chase after her older siblings.  Emily wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  She snuck out of her spot and moved quietly towards the middle of the pool.  Unfortunately, when Christian made like a bear and leapt up in the shallow end, roaring and beating his chest, Emma went backwards in surprise, and they cracked heads.

“Ow!”

“That’s _my_ -”

“I’m cold!” cut in Cordelia.

“Maybe we should head in,” said Christian, rationally.  Then there was a flashlight and they all quickly ducked below the surface.  The security walked past, and when he was gone they rose up, Christian blowing out a long breath.

“That’s enough excitement for me,” Adrienne said, pulling herself up out of the pool.

“Hey, Delia.” Emma pulled Cordelia aside.  “You go sleep in Addy’s room, okay?”

“You going to f-“ Emma slapped her hand over her little sister’s mouth.  “Shut up.  If Emily goes back to her room, she’ll wake her mom with the shower.  She should shower in our room.  And _you_ should shower in Adrienne’s.”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes.  “That doesn’t mean I should sleep there.”

“Does it _matter_?”

Emily thought that Emma should probably have asked her first, before going through all of this.  But whatever, she really _didn’t_ want to wake her mom up sneaking back in.  She tugged her shirt over her wet head and then hooked her arm around Emma’s shoulders congenially.  She grinned down at Cordelia. 

“Yes, she wants to fuck her girlfriend,” Emily clarified.  “And it would be preferable if you weren’t watching.”  Cordelia rolled her eyes.  Emma looked away, embarrassed.  Emily enjoyed embarrassing Emma, too often it was the other way around.  “Or watching her strike out.”  Cordelia laughed, and Emma elbowed her in the stomach, but lightly.

“You know California’s in a drought,” Emma attempted on their way up the stairs.

“That is _so_ lame,” Emily told her, but pushed a clump of wet hair behind her ear for her anyway.


	13. Long Hot Days

Tennis had been even worse than usual.  Even the coach, standing in her wide brimmed hat was slick with sweat after a few moments.  Emily felt like she was going to vomit from the heat and her arm was shaking, but rather shockingly they managed a few decent rallies, and she even served adequately twice.  Twenty minutes early the coach called it quits.

“Great job, girls.  You’re both getting a lot better.  Now get inside before you die of heatstroke.”

Emily drained her water bottle while walking into the locker room.

“You were kind of good today,” Emma said, looking at her rather accusatorially.

Emily groaned.  “I just didn’t want to chase balls _really_ badly.  Sometimes there’s a miracle.”

“Still,” Emma frowned.  “I think you’ve misled me about your athleticism.”

“And you’re basing this on…”

“You clocking me in the face mainly.”

Emily covered her eyes.  “Yeah, never going to live that one down.”

“I had a bruise!”

“You don’t get to make out with random guys if you’re dating me!”

Emma was grinning broadly at her.

“What?”

“Shower in your room?”

“Huh?”

Emma caught her hand and tugged.  “ _Your_ room.”

Emily did not believe in showering with other people, so she made Emma get in first.  When she got out, Emma had not bothered to get dressed.  She was naked in her bed, half tangled in the sheets, her eyes dirty as she licked her lips and stretched out her arms over her head.  “Tennis wore me the fuck out.”

“Oh it clearly didn’t.”  Emily held her towel tight around her, not totally sure what she should do here.  Emma grinned back.

“Come on, drop it.  Have we actually managed to be fucking for weeks and I’ve never seen you totally naked?”

“You saw me naked when we all went swimming.”

“It was dark, and you were checking out my sister.”

“I was _not_.”

“Lose the towel, darling.”

Emily made an offended face.  “Did you really just call me _darling_?  I’m _not_ younger than you, or your little pet.”

“Then get over here and prove it!  You could give someone a complex.”

Emily dropped the towel.  She crawled on top of Emma and pinned her wrists to the mattress.  She leaned in, her wet hair brushing over the other girl’s face.  She caught her lower lip between her teeth and tugged gently.  Emma made a slight grumbling noise in her throat and let her back arch.

It was nice, Emily thought, as their lips brushed and then _met_.  They weren’t doing anything more than kissing, but naked kissing was not really like other kinds.  They were tangled up in the sheets, not even grinding or using much tongue, but it was just so hot where their skin pressed together and so cold where the air conditioner froze the room.  The heat became sweat and their slick bodies moved differently against each other, and Emma gasped into her mouth.

It probably would have become sex right then, Emily moving down her body, rubbing her nose in the salt slick of her stomach, if the door hadn’t opened and Emily’s mother walked in.

Emily looked up at the sound and froze.  Her mother looked, and then looked again.  Emma’s fingers tightened in the sheets, drawing a quick harsh breath in through her nose.  Emily was just trying not to panic.  She had no idea what would happen, and she couldn’t figure out how to move, or how to fix this.

“ _Emily_.”

“Mom?”  Her mother brought her hand to her face, half cringing and covering her eyes, and finally Emily got the picture and lunged for the sheet, jerking it haphazardly over them.

“Emily?  How could you…?”   Elizabeth took three quick steps over to the bed.  Her eyes slid down to Emma and narrowed.  “I should have guessed.”

Emma jerked up, sheet tight to her chest, furious.  “Should have guessed _what_?”

“Your father told me you were trouble.”

Emily just gaped.  She had never been in control of this conversation, but now it was way beyond her.

“And of course _he_ would know.”  Emma sneered.  “You dare criticize me for fucking your daughter when you’re fucking my married father?”

Elizabeth looked horrified.  Emily felt even more horrified.  “Watch your mouth, young lady.  When your father hears about-“

“If you tell my father, I’ll tell my mother about you.  I’ll let the entire conference know what kind of whore-“

“Emma!  Shut up!” Emily finally snapped.  Emma looked chastened and ashamed, and as scared as she clearly was.  “You can’t tell her father, mom.  There’s no reason to.”

Elizabeth’s face closed.  “Emily, put some clothes on and meet me in the other half of the suite.”

Her mother walked swiftly through to the other small room with couches and a table.  Emily spared one glance for Emma, who had turned desperation into something hard and spiky, before quickly dressing and following her mother, shutting the door behind her.

Elizabeth was waiting, arms crossed, utterly enraged, and Emily knew she should have stopped Emma sooner.

“I let you spend time with Winston’s troublemaker daughter so that you would rub off on her, not the reverse!”

“She’s not a troublemaker and she’s not rubbing off on me!  She lashed out because she’s scared!”

“Don’t tell me she didn’t talk you into this!”

“She didn’t!”  It was not a lie in the big picture of things.  “I wanted _her_.  I’m the one who started it.”

“Emily.”  She had that tone, the one that demanded a denial of what was so obviously a lie.  Emily _hated_ it.

“Don’t tell me I’m not telling the truth!  _She’s_ straight!  I’m the one who couldn’t keep my hands to myself, and you can’t blame her for this because she was willing to roll with it.”

There were lots of ways to blame Emma for this, but she wasn’t going to throw her to the wolves, not when she knew what her family was like.

“You don’t have to defend her.  If she convinced you to _experiment_ , I’m not going to punish you for it.  But if you _lie_ to me…  I know you’re not the kind of girl to fall in bed with anyone who asks, not with someone you hardly know.”

“ _How_?”

“What?”

“How do you know what kind of girl I am?”  Emily hadn’t thought she could get this angry, but she was trying to tell the truth, and her mom wouldn’t believe her.  “You don’t spend any time with me.  Is that who you _want_ to be?  I’ve only known Emma for two weeks, but she _likes_ me, and I like her, and how _else_ am I supposed to be with anyone?  You always drag me away from my friends, you pushed me until I’m years ahead of my age group so no one in my grade thinks I’m anything but a kid.  Sometimes all I want to do is be _normal_ , mom!”

“This is _normal_?”

 “Emma’s normal!  She’s real!  And yeah, she has problems; she isn’t _perfect_.  But she’s not a fantasy!  She’s warm, and alive, and intense and she _likes_ me, and I can finally check that off the list!  I don’t have the chance to check a lot of things off, thanks to you, and this is better than that.  She’s my friend, and I care about her, and I’ve gotten to know her family and you _can’t_ tell her father, because there’s no way he’ll understand, and he’ll hurt her.”  She looked away, looking at her hand, still ghosting with the memory of how it felt to connect with her face.  “I’ve hurt her, and I can’t be the one who gets her hurt again.”

“He’s not going to hurt his own daughter!”

“He broke her nose!  He might be your friend, but his kids are terrified of him.  This isn’t bad.  There’s nothing bad going on.”  Emily didn’t want to cry, but it was really hard not to. 

“Nothing bad is going on?”  Her mother sounded harshly incredulous.

“She’s my _girlfriend_.  We were making out.”

“That _wasn’t_ what I saw.”

Emily would deny until the ends of the earth.  “We were just kissing.  Nothing else happened.”  What might have happened if she had waited fifteen minutes to walk in was not something Emily felt it necessary to mention.  “Please don’t tell.”

Elizabeth stared at her, still thrown, but starting to be convinced.  There were some perks to being the good kid.  “You honestly think he would… overreact.”

“I’ve never been afraid of you like they are of their father.  You’ve done things to me, forced me home, made me stop seeing certain people, but I’ve always believed that you thought it was to keep me safe.  He isn’t like you.  Don’t try to protect me by letting her get hurt.”

“You care about her.”

“She’s my friend.”  And that was more important than anything, in a way.

Elizabeth sighed.  “I just… I didn’t expect this.  But I suppose it’s better that it’s not a boy.”

Emily gaped.  _She_ hadn’t expected that.

“But you know I’d never let you have a boy up here alone.”

Emily hadn’t actually known this.  She had always had boys for friends, and they had always been allowed to be up in her room.

“I can't allow you to be alone in anyone’s hotel room with her.”  Emily closed her mouth and did not mention the night they had kicked Cordelia out and she had slid her fingers up the inside of Emma’s thigh, utterly appreciative of her short silky nightdress.  “And I’m going to have to ask you to be honest.  I can’t police this, but I will be keeping as close an eye on you as I can manage.”

“I understand,” Emily said awkwardly.  “But… why is it a problem if we, uh…”

Elizabeth arched a sarcastic eyebrow.  “Because I can’t be a party to this.  If I know about it and allow it to go on, then I am obligated to tell her father.  If I’ve made an attempt to nip it in the bud, and he still finds out, he cannot blame me for letting my child debauch his daughter.”

Emily felt herself start to turn red and wished desperately that it wouldn’t show.

“Whether she started it, or you, you’re older and you have to be responsible.  Be _appropriate_ in public.  Most of the people in this hotel are linked to the conference, and most of them know who you are, so, unless you want Winston to find out from some other source, be _discreet_.  And,” Elizabeth sighed.  “When we get back to Italy, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends’ sons.  You’re almost sixteen.  I suppose it is understandable that you are going to want to have some experience.”

Emily bit the inside of her lip and firmly did not ask about whether getting head in the back of a Camaro was experience enough.

When she ducked back into the other room, Emma was dressed, and balled up on the edge of the bed.  She looked over when the door opened and the tears tracks were visible on her face.  Emily gave her an awkward thumbs-up.  Emma still looked desperate and eyed it, uncomprehending.  Emily quickly strode over to her and bent, cupping her face.  “She’s not going to tell.”

Slowly, Emma _breathed_.  Emily pressed a rough impulsive kiss to her half parted lips.  If they weren’t allowed to be alone in hotel rooms anymore, they’d better start getting used to making out in public.  Emma kissed her back, hooking her arms around her neck and pulling her off balance so they tumbled onto the bed.

Emily’s mother coughed pointedly.

“I have to go back to the conference,” she said.  “And I am not starting this off by leaving you in here to pick up where I interrupted.  So please accompany me into the hallway, and then may I suggest the game room and the healthful entertainment of… table tennis?”

Emma grinned lasciviously from under her, and Emily just shook her head.

“Honestly,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice below the level her mother could hear it at.  “I know you have a dirty mind, but _table tennis_?”

Emma laughed.  “I just want to see if you suck as much at that as you do at real tennis.”

Emily scowled and planted a not entirely inadvertent elbow in her stomach as she got to her feet.

 


	14. The Great Outdoors

Cordelia was downstairs with Christian and their room was abandoned.  Emma had lured Emily up there after tennis saying she had forgotten something, but Emily was staying awkwardly near the door.  Finally she stopped playing it coy.  “You are wasting opportunities here!”  Emma caught the front of her shirt and tried to haul her bodily into the room.

“We can’t!”  And she explained.

“Wait, you mean you're _serious_?”  Emma was sure the look on her face was comical in its incredulity.  “She’s not going to find out.”

“I don’t lie to my mom.”

“Bullshit.”

Emily squinched up her mouth.  “Fine, I don’t intentionally and premeditatedly tell my mother one thing and then do something else.  Lies of omission are not the same thing.”

“Will it violate your _honor_?”  Emma snorted.  “Fine.  Whatever.  No hotel rooms.”

She grabbed Emily’s sleeve and pulled her downstairs.  There was a discreet shrubbery near the side door, slightly less populated than the pool area.  “Hey!  Wait!  Where are we going?”

Emma pushed her up against the wall behind the shrubbery.  “Not anywhere.”

“Hey girls,” said Tony, as he walked by, carrying a large drum of garbage.

Emily snickered.  Emma glared.  “Fine.  Somewhere else.”

Next they ended up in the locker room.  Emma gestured towards the showers.

“No,” Emily said.  “You know I have a thing about showers.  You’re supposed to get clean in them.  And seriously, the last people I want walking in on me are the ladies who play tennis in the afternoon.”

Emma considered this, particularly the bleached-blonde, suntanned, desperately-clinging-to-their-youth soccer moms who populated the spa in the morning and the tennis courts in the afternoons, and agreed.  It would be like having _her_ mom walk in on them.  She would blink, and look vague and uncomprehending, and then make a critical remark that in one interpretation sounded totally innocuous and in the other was just vicious, and Emma would proceed to be humiliated for the rest of her life.

“Okay.  I get that.”  She caught Emily’s wrist and tugged her out the door.  Emily was grinning at her, clearly amused by this, and Emma figured she could keep it up for a while.  That stupid smile really didn’t make Emma want to kiss her any less.

There were more convenient shrubberies behind the tennis courts.  She pushed Emily down and climbed on top of her.  “Better?”

Emily just laughed.  “I have woodchips up my shirt, and I am not risking splinters in my ass just to make out with you, okay?”

“Jesus Christ.”  Emma glared at her.  “Fine.  I get it.  You’re not into me.  Christian’s holding a ping-pong tournament in the game room.  Is _that_ feasible?”

“Sounds fun.”

Emma glowered.  “God, I hate you.”

Emily was kind of awesome at ping-pong.  It was the one racket sport that she did not cause irreparable damage to her opponents while playing.  She never played doubles though.  She didn’t trust herself _that_ far.

High on victory she clambered into Emma’s lap on the couch.  Christian and Cordelia began an air hockey death match, and ignored them.  Emily cupped Emma’s head and kissed her, whacking her lightly with the paddle that she hadn’t put down.

“Get a room, losers,” Adrienne snapped as she proceeded to depart in favor of more entertaining company.

“Emily promised her mom she wouldn’t,” Emma managed to retort in between kisses.  Adrienne left with a huff.  Emily manhandled her back into position and kissed her again, the handle of the paddle poking into her ear.  “And you!” Emma snapped, pulling away for a moment.  “Drop the racket before you get to second base!”


	15. Ice Cream

Emily’s mother had decided that she had clearly allowed her daughter too much freedom.  That Saturday she came down to breakfast with them and made _conversation_.  Emily spent breakfast cringing and half bent over her plate.  Emma was sharp and tense and on her guard, or she would have found it funny.  But parents taking an interest was _never_ a good sign.

Cordelia knew this, and was suspicious until Mrs. Prentiss complimented her hair.  Then she warmed right up, and Emma cast a glare at her for being so easily won over.  Christian was always friendly, so she couldn’t be annoyed with him for it, and Adrienne had ordered room service and didn’t come down.

“I thought you kids might be a little sick of the hotel,” she said.  “Are any of you interested in doing some things in Sacramento today?  The Rivertrain?  The Zoo?  Ice cream?”

Ice cream cinched it for Cordelia.  Even Christian said it sounded like fun, but he was older and could disappear whenever he got bored out of his mind.

“What about you?” Elizabeth turned to Emma with an utterly fake smile.  Emma’s lips tightened and her eyes slid to Emily.  Elizabeth unsubtly put an arm around Emily’s shoulders.  “Are you coming with us?”

That was blatant.  Emily clearly didn’t get a choice.  “Yeah,” she replied, a little more stiffly than she wanted to sound.  “Sounds good.”

*            *            *

“Does she think you’re fucking _seven_?” Emma hissed at Emily as they stood outside the Lemur Cage at the Zoo.

“Lemurs are awesome,” Emily told her.  The weird looking cat-monkey gave Emma a particularly demonic orange-eyed look.  Then it chewed its bum.  “Ooh!  Otters!”

Lemurs were totally awesome, Emma decided, especially compared to the fucking Railroad Museum.  Oooh, a train ride!  The tracks went along the river, but some chubby frolicking otters would have really improved the entertainment value.  She leaned her head back against the seat, groaned internally, and tried to die.

There was a bounce from the springs in the seat next to her.  Emma narrowed her eyes before she turned her head, so as to not be blinded by Emily’s irritating grin.

“What?”

“Well, not to disturb your misery.  But I heard they once found a humpback whale in this river.”

Emma stared at her for a moment.  She was clearly mocking her.  “Shut up.”

“Its name was Humphrey.”

Emma looked at her.  “Humphrey?”

“Indeed.”

Finally Emma snorted.  “Humphrey the Humpback Whale?”

“God’s honest truth.”

“Yeah, because God’s truth is so convincing otherwise.”

“I did specify _honest_ truth.”

Emma grinned and scooted slightly closer to her.  She spotted her mom glance up, a slightly distressed expression on her face, but she was trapped talking to Christian, who was in one of his ‘charm the grown-up’ moods.  “Well,” she said, tipping her head to let some of her hair fall in her face.  “Clearly the hundredth of a chance possibility of seeing a whale makes this recreational train commute the most thrilling activity in the world.”

Emily laughed quietly.  “It’s pretty good for Sacramento.”

“I don’t know.”  Emma flashed a slight smile.  “You find pretty good ones?”

“… _Yeah?_ ” It was pretty fucking clear where Emily’s mind had gone.  Emma laughed.

“I mean your random church fiesta.  Get your fucking head out of the gutter unless you want your mom to watch you get me off right here, because those bathrooms are _disgusting_.”

“You checked out the bathrooms?”

“I make _plans_.”  Emily was smiling at her, not amused at what she had said, just sort of affectionate, which would have been irritating if it hadn’t been kind of dirty at the same time.  Emma considered kissing her anyway, but it probably would come off sort of cute, and she didn’t want to spoil any of Elizabeth’s horrified ‘that trampy terminal delinquent is hitting on my daughter’ look.

*            *            *

Emma had to admit that the ice cream did kind of make up for the endless sweltering train-ride from hell.  It was still way too hot, and that meant things were melting too fast, but she was going to take _advantage_ of that.

Elizabeth got a phone call and went down to the corner so she wouldn’t be distracted by their chatter.  Emma leaned against the armrest of the bench right next to where Emily was sitting.

“What kind did you get?”

Emily glanced up from where she was very carefully licking a ring around the base so it wouldn’t drizzle all over her hand.  “Dark Chocolate Raspberry?” she said, as if she wasn’t entirely sure, and then offered it up.  Emma leaned over and took a long leisurely lick up the side.  Emily bit her lip.

“Good.”  Emma offered her evaluation, and coolly straightened up and turned her attention to her own.  Emily gave her three separate uncomfortable glances.  “You try it,” Emma said and moved it so she could try some.

“Oh, I’m-“

Emma arched an eyebrow, cutting her off, and she tried, appropriately.  But Emma had tilted it just slightly so it dripped down her fingers and onto Emily’s wrist.

“Ooops,” Emma grinned.  Emily pulled her hand back to wipe it off, but Emma caught it before she could and bent to lick it up.  “Too good to waste,” she said, licking her lips.  Emily narrowed her eyes.

“And that’s why you’re letting it drip all over your fingers.”

Emma laughed and started the rescue.  “Hey, it tastes better on you.”  Emily snorted.  But it totally did.  It tasted even better when she heard Emily’s mother stutter on the phone as she watched.

She dripped it on her neck next.

“Shit!  That’s cold Emma!”  Well, dripping and carefully knocking a small iceburg free were _kind_ _of_ the same thing.

“Sorry,” Emma said, clearly not sorry, and bent to clean it up.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Emily hissed.

“Some of it went down your shirt.  Hold this.”  Emma gave her the cone and proceeded to tug down the neck of her shirt to trace the track from the escaped drip up her back.  Emily gave a really delicious little shudder and whimper, and regardless of the fact that there really wasn’t anything there, Emma licked up her back again.  Then she bit lightly into her neck.

“Oh no!’  Emily gave her a good elbow to get her off and skidded all the way to the other side of the bench.  She gave her her ice cream back.  “You eat that over _there_.  Three foot minimum!”

Emma took it, laughing.  “Is that a restraining order?”

“You can’t _do_ that to me when my mom is _watching_!”

“But her face gets all red and she forgets what she’s going to say!”

Emily narrowed her eyes.  “If you had kept going with that I would have bent you over the fucking bench and shoved your skirt up, okay?  You really want my mom to watch _that_?”

“I dunno, might be worth it,” Emma said with a grin, then bit into the cone.

“Hey!  Can we go to the bookstore?” asked Cordelia, eagerly pointing.  A glance was enough.

*            *            *

Emily’s back hit the shelf of New Age Spirituality books, nearly dislodging a precariously displayed crystal.  Emma’s mouth hit hers a second later.  Emily’s hands twisted into her hair and tugged.

“You’re a fucking tease.”

“You’re only a tease if you don’t put out,” Emma said sliding one hand up to cup her ass.

“That is _not_ true.”  Emily leaned into her shoulder, laughing silently, and pressed a kiss to her neck.  Emma made a pleased noise and tipped her head back.  Emily took the opportunity to nip her ear.

“You’re the tease,” Emma mumbled.  “You and your fucking tongue, and getting ice cream on your nose, and smiling at me all fucking day, and I just _want_ you.”

Emily grinned into the skin of her neck and her fingers slid up her leg, under her skirt, and pressed against the tacky fabric of her underwear.  Emma hissed and rolled her hips into her.  “Still not going down on you in a bookstore.”  Her fingers twitched and Emma hooked her arm around her neck and clung, smothering a moan in her neck.  “I want to though,” she whispered and started stroking.  “I was going to before,” she said, thinking back to Emma naked in soft cool sheets.  “I wanted to push your heels up and spread your knees, and just…”  Emma’s breath was coming quicker and her hips were thrusting into Emily’s hand with short quick motions.  Emily’s nose was buried in her hair right by her ear.  She smelled warm, like sweat and sun and sex, and Emily tugged her head back just enough to see her lidded eyes, and the short gasp, and Emily kissed her mouth, ice cream sweet and sticky.  Emma’s back arched and she cried out into the kiss, her knees buckling as she came, and Emily barely caught her in time to keep her from slipping to the floor.

“Fuck,” Emma mumbled into her neck.  “Are you _sure_ we can’t have a sleepover tonight.”

Emily laughed into her hair.  “Well, there might have been a chance if you hadn’t spent the whole day antagonizing my mom.”

“Oh,” Emma said flatly.  “Fuck.”  She flopped her head onto Emily’s shoulder, and the crystal, finally, fell off the shelf and landed on the floor with an emphatic thunk.


	16. Aphrodisiacs and Underwear

Emily had gotten two letters that morning, a short one from John and a long one from Matt with a pile of enclosed doodles.

“Can we do it later?  I should answer these.”

Emma stared at them as she spread them out on the breakfast table, and then looked reproachfully at her.  “You said you’d come shopping with me.”

“Just a little later.” Emily flashed her an absent smile and then looked back down at her notes.

“Fine.” Emma left, abandoning her breakfast, and walked out.

Emily didn’t notice.  She was busy reading.

*            *            *

“So, what did they have to say?”

Emma was a little stiff and offended as they walked into town, but it didn’t look serious, so Emily thought she could safely ignore it.  “John was just wanting to know when I was getting back to Rome so he would have enough time to locate me a fake id and plan semi-nefarious adventures.  Matt was telling me about what he’d been painting, and complaining about John, who’s been obsessed with sneaking out lately and apparently won’t shut up about his quest to get laid.”  She laughed, and Emma cast a suspicious look in her direction.

“Are either of them good looking?”

Emily blinked.  “What?  They’re… fine.”

“Just fine?  Not hot?”

“I don’t really think about my friends as _hot_.”

Emma glanced away and shrugged.  “What did you say back?”

“I only wrote John.  Just told him not to go crazy and when I’d be back.”  She smiled awkwardly.  “I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to tell Matt yet.”

“Why?  You-“  Emma stopped and _looked_ at her.  “You’re going to tell him about me?”

Emily glanced away.  “Well, if I leave it out, he’s going to wonder why I’m not complaining about being bored out of my mind, since absolutely nothing is happening.”

Emma snorted.  “True.”

“But if I do tell him…”  She closed her eyes, feeling Emma’s tense worried gaze on her.  “I have to figure out how much I can say without grossing him out.”

Emma gave an involuntary snort of laughter.  “Grossing him out?  In what way?”

“Well, apparently John has been making him feel ill with all his talking about tits and legs and banging girls, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“John sounds like a jerk.”

“He’s not,” Emily said immediately.  “He just likes to have fun.  Matt’s more sensitive, and I think he might not be into girls, although he probably doesn’t like boys yet either.  So all of the talk about girly bits makes him uncomfortable.”

“Do _you_ like boys?”  Emily blinked.  “You told your mother I was straight.”

“I… don’t think she believed me.”

Emma paused, and then bared her teeth in something that was probably intended to resemble a smile.  “It would be kind of funny, wouldn’t it, if you were the one who… liked boys too.”

Emily looked at her, at the way she turned her eyes away, trying to be cool and laugh about it.  “Um, okay.  What’s your issue about this?  Because I thought it was the friends thing, but now it’s…”

“I don’t want you to sleep with them!”  Emily gaped, and Emma frowned and turned sharply to glare at her.  “Look, I know these guys are your friends, but I’m not sure if you know how hot you are.  So just… don’t think someone’s doing you a favor by being into you, okay?”

Emily stared at her, bewildered.  “Okay?”

Emma glared at her and grabbed the front of her shirt in a fist, almost shaking her.  “You are really, _really_ hot.  And…” She looked around fiercely and spotted a Gap.  “There.”

“What?”  But Emily was being dragged into the store.  Emma managed to snag four things from the racks as they passed and drop them onto Emily, who caught them before they fell.  Then Emma pulled her into a dressing room and shut the door behind them.

“All right,” she said, taking the clothes from her and hanging them up.  “Take your shirt off.”

Emily looked worried.  She had really lost the thread of this conversation.  “Um, those are for _me_?” she asked, gesturing with her head towards the clothes.  They were not particularly alike to anything she would ever wear.

“Just do what I tell you to.”  Emma sauntered up to her and put her hands on her hips.  “Can’t you think that I want you to take your shirt off because I want to see your tits?”

Emily gaped and Emma used the distraction to jerk the shirt up and off over her head.  Then she stepped back and eyed her.  You have really nice breasts, and your mouth is like… sinful or something, but that is a terrible bra.”

Emily cringed.

“If I get you underwear, would you wear it?”

“You… want to get me underwear?”

Emma gave a sly grin.  “Actually, yeah.  I really want to get you underwear.  You’re pretty to look at naked, but you shouldn’t be less pretty with clothes on.”

Emily gave her a half-embarrassed smile.  Emma leaned in and kissed her.  When she pulled away, she was the one smiling.  Then she shook it off.

“Are we actually in the Gap?”  She made a face.  “Eww.  Come on.”  She caught Emily’s arm and tugged her towards the door.

“Hey!  Give me back my shirt!”

*            *            *

“Wait?  Seriously?  I’m pretty sure strippers shop here!”

“What?” Emma turned back at the entrance to Prevues and grinned.  “Is that a problem?”

“They don’t card you to get in?”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “It sells _clothing_.  Just get in here.”

“How much more shopping are we going to do?” Emily whined.  Somehow she had ended up carrying all the bags, not that this was surprising really.  She hadn’t really been able to evaluate what Emma had picked out for her, but she had been enjoying the intent, turned-on look and was beginning to regret her moral high ground.  “I’ll go up to your room with you if we can go back to the hotel now.”

Emma gave a lazy lascivious smile, “and give me a private viewing?  Why Miss Prentiss, I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

Emily glared at her.

“Come on!” Emma pulled her into the store.  “I have just remembered that you don’t even own a pair of fishnets.  This must be remedied.”

“Why?  Why must this be remedied?”

*            *            *

Emily was standing by the corsets, looking, not quite ready to touch, but definitely looking.

“You into that?” Emma asked, draped with stuff, and tapped her ass with a white sparkly riding crop for attention.

“What?  No.” Emily’s eyes widened.

“Are you _sure_?”  Emma glanced from the rack to the girl.  “Because it would be hot.  It would really make you…” she waved the crop in a badum-badum sort of shape. _“Emphatic_.”

“Still no.”  But she gave them a sideways look, and Emma hit her ass again.

“I want you to try one on.  Right now.”

Emily expressed her annoyance in an eye roll, but caved far too quickly.  She put it on over her shirt and Emma turned her around to help with the fastenings.  “Okay, now _that_ looks awesome on you.  All it needs is… _boots_.”

Emma should not be allowed near discount shoes.  This was a truth Emily discovered, and paid for not understanding by lugging a hundred pounds of shopping back to the hotel.

“Oh my god,” Cordelia said.  “You ate Sacramento.”

“Get out brat,” Emma told her.

“Hey,” interjected Emily, but Emma shoved her sister out the door, shut it, and drew the chain.

“Oh no,” she said and poked Emily in the chest.  “You get those clothes off immediately and then _show_ me.  I’m going to enjoy this.”


	17. Buried Bones

“My mother’s back,” Emma said, softly and unhappily.  “She was at her spa, but she’s spending the last week here.”

“Oh,” Emily said, not entirely sure what to make of Emma’s tone of voice.  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

Emma flashed her a wan smile.  “Yeah, sure.  It’s just she likes to see each of us separately, so I can’t hang out after tennis.”

“I could… go with you?” Emily offered.  It was an odd offer to make.  But Emma seemed to shake a little as she spoke, and she didn’t want to make her be alone.

“You wouldn’t want to-“

“I don’t mind.  I like spending time with you.”

Emma finally gave her something resembling a real smile.  Then she rolled her eyes.  “It’s your funeral.”

*          *            *

Emma dressed formally after her post tennis shower, a white sundress, not the jean skirts and cotton tanktops that she wore to hang around with Emily.  She had put an odd sort of mask on, making her face hard and still, not setting her jaw petulantly, just closing down, as if she had retreated deep inside the fortress of her body and closed the gate.

Emily followed her up to the door, where she knocked, and then waited for the call to come inside.

The woman in the room was thin, long faced, and hollow cheeked.  Her skin was fine wrinkled tissue paper, tanned, her curled hair a golden wash.  She sat wrapped up in a satin duvet at the small vanity table, one elegant claw extended and holding the stem of a martini glass, peering at the figures who had appeared in her doorway.

“Hello?” she inquired, in a cultured wispy simper.  “Who is it?”

“It’s Emma, mother.”

The woman blinked a few times, peering harder.  “Emma?  You seem be so much older whenever I look at you.”  Emma’s lips tightened, but she didn’t respond.  “You’ve been out in the sun too much.  You’re starting to freckle.”

“I don’t freckle,” Emma hissed through her teeth.  Emily restrained a smile.  She did freckle, right over her shoulders and down her back, and she was obsessive with sunscreen, but it didn’t do much to hinder their spread across her nose and out onto her cheeks.

“Fetch me my pills dear.”

“Mother-“ Emma tried.

“And call for another martini, will you?”  She smiled, twiddling the stem in her fingers.  “This one seems to have been delivered empty.”

“Mother, this is my friend Emily.”

Mrs. Frost smiled vaguely in Emily’s direction.  “Mm,” was all she said.  “Where are my pills, dear?”

Emma went over to the bag and started rummaging through it.

“Are you sick?” Emily asked, without thinking about it.  Emma shot her a horrified look.

“What?” Mrs. Frost looked at her.  “My nerves dear.  I can’t have too many people in here at once.  _Emma_!”  She snapped it like it was a curse.  “My pills!”  It was a frantic screech.  Emily cringed back.  Emma hurriedly slapped the pill bottle into her hand.

“They’re right here!”

“Are you _yelling_ at me?”  She was dangerous now.

“Just take them!” Emma yelled clearly this time.

Mrs. Frost rose up out of her satin and feather cocoon and slapped her.  “You ungrateful bitch!”

Emma’s hand went to her face.  She bent over, seething.  “You’re in front of _company_ , mother.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Frost brought her hands up to cover her face and then sank down onto her chairs.  “My pills.  I need my pills.  It’s been too long.”  She found the bottle and tried to open it but her hands were shaking too much and the bottle fell on the floor.  She let out a desperate cry that sounded more like a wounded animal than anything a human should make.  Emma scooped it up and jerked off the top, thrusting it at her as if it were a punch.

“Fucking take them already.”

Mrs. Frost shook a handful into her palm and swallowed them dry.  “Oh, Emma dear.  Call for a martini, won’t you?”

“You’re not supposed to drink after you take those.  Call them yourself.  I’m leaving.”

She strode out of the room, past Emily, not even looking at her.  Emily hurried after and caught up with her just as she drove her fist brutally into the wall.

“Emma!”

“Don’t fucking say _anything_!” Emma screamed at her, cupping her hand to her stomach.  Emily reached out and grabbed it, and Emma cringed in pain.

“Don’t… don’t _do_ this to yourself.”  Emma gave a weak whimper and sagged, the anger leaving.

“Just don't… don’t talk about it,” Emma managed, pressing her head into Emily’s shoulder.  “Nothing happened.”

“Okay.” Emily rubbed her back.  “Let’s get you some ice.”

*          *            *

“Hey,” Christian flashed a bright smile.  “Tony brought me some stuff.  Want to go up on the roof and smoke?”

“Fuck yeah,” Emma said immediately.  Emily froze.  She looked between the siblings, just a little confused.  “Come on.”  Emma didn’t bother to ask her.  She just caught her wrist and pulled her up the stairs.  “I _really_ need this,” Emma told her.  “Dibs on your lap.”

Christian had pushed open the door to the roof and stepped through.  Emily caught Emma’s hand.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“How often?”

Emma stared at her, looking blank.  “What?  Christian always shares.  Addy doesn’t, but she mostly gets it when she’s going out.  Coke and stuff.”

“And… you don’t think there’s something wrong about that?”

Emma frowned, narrowing her eyes.  “Says the girl who gets shitfaced at her mom’s parties.  Do you have a problem with this?”

Emily clenched her hands into fists at her sides and let them out.  She made a small sound of frustration.  This was hard, because yesterday, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but today, today it was a big fucking deal.  “No.  I mean… Look, I feel like a hypocrite, but have you thought about this?”

“Thought about _what_?”

“About your _mom_!”

Emma stiffened, her face turning into an ugly threat.  “I told you not to talk about that.”

“I’ve never seen someone act like that before!”  Emily turned her head away before continuing.  “She hit you.”

“It’s not like she hits hard.  She weighs like forty pounds.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?  I _hate_ dealing with her.  I know she’s crazy, and it makes me feel like shit.  I kind of don’t want to feel like that anymore, so I’m going out there.  If you don’t want to come you don’t have to.”

“Your mother’s an _addict_ , Emma!”

“So _what_?”

“Do you seriously want to be like _that_?”

Emma recoiled.  “I’m _never_ going to be like that.”

“I really don’t want to tell you what to do.  But after that, I didn’t want to go near that stuff.  And I know it would be a lot easier to deal with if you didn’t have to feel it all the time, but-“

“You’re saying I’m weak,” Emma stated flatly.

Emily gaped.  “Uh, no.  I really don’t think that’s-“

“Yes it is.  You’re saying that my life sucks, and that’s the easy way out.  _You’d_ be too strong to take it.”

“I’m not- I’m _not_ saying that.  And I really don’t have the right to say anything at all.  You’ve seen me at parties.  I know I’m bad at talking to people I don’t know, and I know what makes it easier.  And I know you’re smart, and that you won’t let people take advantage of you.  But I can’t help it.  I just want to protect you.”

Emma looked stricken and horrified.  “Protect me?”

“I’d rather get naked with you than get high,” Emily offered.

“Wait, no, shut up.  You want to _protect_ me?”

“I know I can’t.  But I can’t help _wanting_ to.”

“Do I read as some sort of victim to you?  Because I can handle this!  I can handle things on my _own_.”

“ You shouldn’t _have_ to!”

“It’s none of your fucking business!”

“Do you think I don’t _know_ that?  Do you think that this doesn’t make me feel helpless all the fucking _time_?  And I know I’m making it worse.  I don’t want to be the one to… to open your flank, so don’t blame me for trying to hold on and not let you get hurt while I can still do anything about it.”

Emma looked at her, not as angry as she had been.  She glanced down.  “It would have happened anyway.  Just because it was you, it doesn’t mean you have to take responsibility for it.”

“I don’t _care_ about what I have to or don’t have to do.  You’re just… important to me, and if I want to protect you, half of it is protecting myself.”

“You’re leaving in a week.”  Emily hated that tone.  She finally was asking for something and it sounded so hopeless.

“I know.”

Emma stepped into her, and Emily closed her hands around her sides, sliding them down to her narrow hips.  Emma leaned her head against her shoulder and curled her arms around her waist.

“I don’t need you.”

Emily wrapped her arms more tightly around the younger girl.  “I know.”

*          *            *

They left Christian to find someone else to smoke with and retreated to Emma’s dim cool hotel room.

“I like those,” Emma said, when Emily had stripped down to her underwear.

“Yeah?”

Emma managed a half of a lascivious grin.  “Could you…” she started, then breathed in and tried again.  “Could you make it hurt?”

“ _What?_ ”

Emma cringed and wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “Not, like for the fun of it.  Just use your fingers, you know, enough so it won’t hurt again.”

“I don’t-  I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can try though.  I just… I don’t want anyone to be able to erase this.”

Emily knelt on the bed next to her.  “No one’s ever going to be able to erase this,” she said, and pressed her lips to Emma’s warm, wet mouth.  Emma’s hands slid up her arms and held, nails biting into her shoulders.  She didn’t kiss as hard, just tilted her head into it, opening her mouth, and leaning back into the pillows.  Emily moved to straddle her legs and hover over her.  She slid her hands up her stomach to cup her breasts.  She lowered her head to suck wetly at Emma’s neck.

“Harder,” Emma managed to growl out.  “ _Harder_.”  She tossed her head back and her hips rolled like a wave into Emily as she moved down to unfasten her bra and rub her wet tongue in circles over her taut nipple.  She couldn’t help the rumble in her chest as her lips pressed against perfect, smooth, soft skin.

 _I want to wear you on my body like a scar_.


	18. All at Sea

Apparently, Emma didn’t feel like talking to her today.  That was… interesting.  She just kept casting rather appropriative looks over her once in a while, and sitting up straight with a detached arrogance that was _really_ getting irritating.  Of course, Emily was slightly more worried about the way that her mother was avoiding speaking to her, her pinched mouth and narrow expression.

“I was looking for you yesterday at lunch,” she said finally.  “I couldn’t find you, or your _friend_ , anywhere.”

Emily swallowed hard.  They hadn’t really made it out in time for lunch.  “Oh,” she managed.

“You’re not going to tell me that you went into town?”

“We… didn’t go into town.”

“You _promised_ , Emily.”  Elizabeth fixed her with a stern look.  “Not lying when you’re caught really doesn’t make you honest.”

It wasn’t _fair_.  She shouldn’t be able to make her feel this guilty when she didn’t even want to understand.  Emily looked away, trying not to scuff her shoes on the carpet.  “We’re leaving in a _week_.”

“What does that have to do with _anything_?”

She met her mother’s eyes.  “I know I promised.  But some things are more important.”

“Like showing off your slutty new underwear?”

Emily jerked back.  She had been really careful to not just leave that lying around.  “What?”

“Why are you hiding things from me?”

“Because they’re none of your business!”  Her choice of underwear _really_ wasn’t her mother’s business.

“ _You_ are my business!”  Her mother threw up her hands.  “You’re turning into someone I can’t trust!”

“Because you won’t _listen_!”

“Listen to _what_?  That’s it’s more important for you to get off than to keep your promises to me?”

“Why do you think that this is easy?  It isn’t easy!  It isn’t about you!”

“You having sex is most definitely about me.  You are my daughter and my responsibility, and if something happens because I’m ignoring this, it is going to be my problem!  I thought I could trust you to make good decisions, but if you can’t even control yourself-“

“I have six more days with her!”

“And you want me to believe that that’s going to be the end of it?  You’re a teenager.  You will find someone just as attractive, just as irresistible, just as _important_ , and this will all happen again.”

“It _won’t_!  Emma’s _different_.”

Elizabeth let out an exasperated groan.  “Honestly, whoever decided young love was sweet and deserving of respect did the whole world a disservice.  She’s not your Juliet, she’s just your Rosaline, and you will forget her just as quickly.  She’s a bad enough influence as it is, and next time I might not be close enough to keep an eye on you.”

Emily caught sight of Manuel taking a tray out to the pool area and cringed.  “What makes you think you’ve been keeping an eye on me this time?  She’s been there when I needed her, and I’m just trying to do the same.”

“And that means sleeping with her.”

“It’s showing that I _care_.”

“You don’t need to spread your legs for everyone you care about!”

“Why are you calling me a whore?”  Emily didn’t want to sob but she couldn’t keep her voice from breaking.  “Why do you think I’m stupid?  I know that we’re young and that this is just for the summer, but it’s still important to me!  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I’ll forget everything, maybe I’ll stop caring, but that doesn’t make this any less real right now.  It’s _hard_.  She’s complicated and hurt and half the time I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to fix things, and sometimes I don’t want to try.  I just want to turn and _run_ , but if I do that, if I pull back for one second, she’s _gone_.”

“Then you should let her go!  If it’s that unhealthy, why are you wasting your time on her?”

“I’m not _like_ that,” Emily spat.  “If someone lets you in, you don’t just let them drown.  But you wouldn’t understand that.  You didn’t even think it was worth holding on to someone you were _married_ to.”

“Are you actually comparing yourself to me?”  Her mother sounded angry, but she controlled it.  She looked at her, then smiled tightly and shook her head.  “You might like needy people now, but at some point you won’t have any more to give.  And if you’re not getting anything back, then you cut the cord or you lose everything.”

“Maybe you’re right, but maybe you’re _selfish_ , and I’m not going to walk away if someone needs me.”

She hadn’t notice Emma come into the room looking for her.  Her mother hadn’t noticed either.  And they didn’t notice her spin around and walk out.

*            *            *

Emily found her on the roof, exhausted from fighting with her mother.  They had fought to a standstill though, no promises or threats on either side.  Emma was standing at the railing on the edge of the platform, her fingers curled around the bar, looking out.  The sky was cloudy, threatening lightning, although rain was unlikely, and the sunbathing chairs were deserted.

“Hey.”

“Leave me alone.”

Emily felt like she had been hit.  She couldn’t take this right now and she sucked in a breath, trying not to cry.  “What?”  It was too weak, and she was ashamed of the way her voice sounded.

Emma whirled, but kept a tight hold on the railing.  “Leave me _alone!_   I don’t want to be the person who needs you!  I don’t need your help!  I’m _not_ drowning and I don’t need _you_ to save me!”

Emily stared.  “You heard that.”

“I heard it yesterday too.  I just thought fucking you was worth putting up with your savior complex.  It’s not.”  She turned away.  “I’ll avoid you if you’ll do the same.  It’s only a couple of days.”

Emily felt weak.  She dropped into a lawn chair and pressed her fists against her face.

“Fuck you,” she said finally.

Emma froze, but didn’t turn around.

“I’ve done everything I can to keep my mom from telling on us, and you have done _shit_ to help me.  You’ve done everything you can to make it more difficult, to make her hate you, to make me break my promises to her.”

“I did _not_ ,” Emma snapped.  “You were the one who offered.  I was just buying you underwear.  You were the one who said you’d… show them off.  I wanted to smoke pot.  You wanted to screw me instead.  You just keep throwing yourself at me.  It’s like you think your body is some magic tool that will keep me from- from hurting myself.”

Emily swallowed.  She couldn’t deny that, not really.  “Can’t… can’t you believe that I need you too?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at her.  “Don’t I make you miserable?”

Emily laughed.  “Yes.  But maybe meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You don’t make any sense.”

Emily shrugged.  “I know your dad would be worse, but do you think it’s easy for me to try and make my mom understand?  She _does_ think I’m seven, and I’ve let her believe that for a long time.  I have secrets, and now my absolute biggest secret is common knowledge.  And she doesn’t understand.  And if she knew… about how this started, or what it was supposed to mean, she would understand even less.”

Emma turned back towards her, but didn’t look at her.  She just stared at her feet.  “What is it supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.  That’s what you said.”  Emily got up and walked over to her.  She cupped her cheek, lifting her head, and leaned in, pressing a light kiss against her lips.  “See,” she said, smiling weakly.  “Nothing at all.”

Emma jerked back.  “It doesn’t matter, does it?  Because we can’t _do_ anything.  Nothing I want is possible, and I just have to deal with that.  And you can’t do anything either, no matter how much you want to _protect_ me.”  She spat that word like it was profanity.  Emily had known she was going to regret saying that.  She just wished she didn’t have to regret it every day.

“You’re right.”

“I wish we could run away,” Emma muttered, turning away.

Emily flinched a little in surprise.  “What?  I don’t-“

“If this wasn’t my family anymore, I wouldn’t be broken, and you wouldn’t want to fix me.  We wouldn’t have to wait for it to be over and utterly out of our control.  Your mom wouldn't be able to tell you that it’s all going to go away, and that everything you’re feeling now is teenage hormones.”

Put that way, it sounded perfect.  “Where to?”

Emma shrugged.  “Just get on a boat, go everywhere.  We couldn’t stay anywhere too long, or they’d catch us.”

“Everywhere, hmm?”  Emily put her hands on the railing, Emma between them.  She rested her chin on her shoulder, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent of her hair.

“I would let you take me to your seedy restaurants.”

“I’d carry your shopping.”

Emma turned in the space between her arms and threaded her fingers in her hair, pushing it behind her ears.  “You told me ages ago that you were honorable.  I guess I didn’t realize how much that would piss me off.”

“And you said romance was dead.”

Emma pushed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders, and Emily’s arms closed around her back, pulling her tightly into her body.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“So you’re not going to ignore me for six days?”

Emma’s expression hardened.  “No.  I’m just… I don’t want to let you go.”

Emily cupped her face and ran her thumbs across her cheeks, trying to erase the strain from the muscles.  “Where would we go first?”

Emma just looked at her for a long moment, something utterly exhausted in her eyes.  But she managed a slow almost smile.  “Doesn’t matter.  We wouldn’t leave the hotel.”

“Why not?”

“Because we'd just stay in bed.”

It was so true, and Emily couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of her.  Emma joined in and they collapsed onto one of the lawn chairs. 

They stayed there until it was long past time for lunch.


	19. The Frost Kids Just Know How to Party

Emily managed to make sure that Emma wasn’t going to be depressed or defensive that day by totally dominating at tennis.  Well, more accurately, actually winning a majority of the sets they played at the end.  Their coach was rather impressed.

“I had my doubts at the beginning, but it’s good you’re so competitive.  You’ve both improved a lot.”

They had met eyes with matching surprised expressions.  They weren’t _competitive_.

“I don’t think we’re that competitive,” Emma told her brother.  “At least not with each other.”

Christian arched an eyebrow.  “Um, if you say so.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I saw you guys play ping-pong.  It was dangerous in there.”

Emma scowled.  “As if you should talk.”

“I’m just stating facts here.  Neither of you like to lose.”

“Fine, valid.”  Emma crossed her arms.  She knew she didn’t, and she was pretty certain she wouldn’t like Emily so much if she was that kind of loser.

“Do you have anything for Addy?”

Emma blinked at him.  “What?”

“It’s her birthday, remember?”

“But she planned the party for after we get back.”

Christian gave her a look.  “Yeah, the one with her friends, that we aren’t invited to.”

Emma groaned.  “You mean we’re having a party tonight?  I’m _busy_.”

“I’m sure you can fine an opportunity to make out with your girlfriend _there_.”

Emma grabbed Emily’s arm when she came down for lunch and hauled her towards the door.  “Emergency shopping trip!”

“Wait!  Lunch?”

“Does the word ‘emergency’ mean nothing to you?”

“When it’s paired with ‘shopping’?”

Emma laughed at Emily’s expression.  “I will buy you lunch.  Now shopping.”

Emily trailed behind her, fingers trapped in Emma’s tight grip, and didn’t protest.  They had lunch first, Mexican, and Emma kissed her in the small hallway beside the kitchens.

“I thought we were shopping?” Emily mumbled into her mouth.

“It’s fine.  I figured out what we’re going to get her while we were eating.”

They hit up the craft store first.  Emily watched rather askance as Emma picked out fabric paints and stick on stars.  Then they went to Victoria’s Secret.  The woman behind the counter recognized them and fixed them with a sharp glare.  “You two had better stay out of the dressing rooms!  I had complaints!”

Emily turned red, but Emma just grinned and grabbed the top of her shorts.  “It’s okay.  I’ve got her covered.”  She jerked down the shorts, flashing her underwear.  “I just need something for my sister.”  Emily yelped and elbowed her away.

“Sorry,” she muttered to the clerk, as Emma sorted through the discount rack.

The clerk gave a small scoff.  “Brats.”

Emma found what she wanted, bought it, and dragged Emily back up the hill to the hotel.

“What are you going to do?” Emily asked.

Emma had all of her purchases spread over the hotel room floor.  “Be awesome,” was her response.  “Are you any good at graffiti writing?”

“Uh, no.”

Emma handed her the glue.  “You do the stars then.”  She spread out the bra and tapped the tube of gold fabric paint until it was flowing properly.  In smooth cursive she wrote “Cock” on one cup and “Slut” on the other.

“You’re going to _give_ that to her?”

“What?” Emma looked confused.  “Of course.  It’s her birthday.”

“Won’t she… try to strangle you or something?”

Emma snorted.  “For this?  No.  This is nothing.  And it’s traditional.  I couldn’t get her something she’d _like_.  She’d never trust me again.”

Emily leaned back against the bed and groaned.  “I don’t understand you.”

Emma laughed.  “It’s a Frost thing.  You should really try to escape before we sink our claws in.”  She caught her hand, pulling it towards her.  On the back she drew a star with the gold paint.  “Oops, too late!  Marked you now!”

Emily grinned.  “What did she get you for your birthday?”

“Mmm… Four boxes of condoms and a prescription for penicillin.  She took the condoms back though, and the prescription disappeared off my bulletin board one night, so I think she needed that too.”  Emma chuckled to herself.  She spread the underwear out flat.  She had spent her time sorting through the bargain bin to find the one pair that wasn’t a thong and made sure the backside was facing up.  “Enter Here,” she wrote in cursive, with an arrow pointing down.  

Emily covered her face and tried not to laugh.  The bra was almost dry, so she set about gluing the stars to it.

***

It was Adrienne’s 21’s Birthday and pretty much every single waiter in the hotel was trying to buy her a drink.  Winston hadn’t shown up, which was a relief, and the party had taken over most of the hotel bar.  Adrienne was drinking as much as she wanted, happily ensconced between three shirtless cabana boys, and the uninteresting drinks kept ending up on the table where Emily, Christian, Emma and Cordelia were hanging out.  Cordelia had had one and a half strawberry daquiris and had fallen asleep on the leather seat of the booth.

“Presents!” the call went up.  

Emma grinned lazily and leaned into Emily’s neck.  “Presents,” she mumbled, and licked her way up her neck to right under her ear.  It tickled, and Emily giggled, squirming.  Emma caught her chin and kissed her, liquor sharp and fresh on her tongue.

“ _My_ presents, Emma.”  Adrienne caught Emma by the hair and pulled her away.

Emma smirked lazily up at her.  “Mine’s better.”

Christian laughed at them and pushed the pile of gifts over.  “Come on, opening time!”

Cordelia woke up then.  “Presents?  Awesome!  Mine first.”

She shoved over a packet of tissue paper.  Adrienne picked it up, eyeing it suspiciously.  “Hmm, kind of heavy.  Jewelry?”  She snorted, as that was unlikely.  She tore open the paper and something slithered out and dropped onto the table.  Half the room screamed.  Adrienne brought her hands up to cover her face and _laughed_.  It was a dead snake.  “Gorgeous, honey!”  She picked it up gingerly and then looped it around her neck like a necklace.  

Emma was leaning into Emily’s shoulder and cracking up.  “Oh my god, Cordy’s gotten so much better at this.”

Emily was just being horrified.  Two more shots arrived at the table and she drank them.  This was clearly much more funny if you were soused.

Christian pushed his over next.  It was a long box.  Adrienne gave him a dirty look.  “If you’re giving me a dildo, you had better not have tried it out already.”  But then she picked it up and gaped.  “Fuck, that’s heavy.”  She opened it and inside was a heavy-duty Maglite.  On the flashlight end had been written in white-out, “So your BF doesn’t get lost down there.”  A condom had been rolled up the other end, and on it was scrawled in sharpie, “For down there on those lonely nights.”

Adrienne doubled over laughing and swung the flashlight threateningly.  “Or for braining my faggy brother!  Douchebag.”

“I haven’t tried it out,” Christian said with a grin.  “I’m not as well used as some of us.  But condoms!  See, hygiene!”

Adrienne ripped into the Victoria’s Secret box next.  “Aww, you went all out, sister.”

“You bet.”  Emma’s hand curled around Emily’s knee and crept lazily up her leg.

Adrienne pulled out the underwear first.  She read the writing and laughed and then threw them at Christian.  “I think these are for you!”

“What?  Gold and sparkly spanky pants!”  Christian laughed as he read them.  “Gorgeous, Emz,” and pulled them on over his head, poking his face through a leg hole so the arrow pointed at his ear.  Emma laughed and her hand slid even further up Emily’s thigh, hiking up her skirt.

Adrienne plucked out the bra next.  “Now this is totally me!”  She laughed and put it on over her halter-top, and the nearby waiters salivated.  The table was now empty of gifts.

“What?  Your pretty little girlfriend didn’t get me anything?”

Emily felt a bit like a deer in the headlights as the onrushing car of Adrienne stared down at her.  “Uh…”

“That means I get to take a forfeit!”  She caught Emily’s face in her hand, leaned in, and kissed her.  Emma’s nails dug into Emily’s inner thigh like knives and Adrienne’s tongue thrust wetly into her mouth.  Overstimulated and not entirely sober, Emily just let it happen.  By the time Adrienne had finished fucking her tonsils down her throat, she was pretty sure her leg was bleeding, and when Adrienne pulled away, Emma dragged her nails the last two inches up her thigh and pressed them roughly into her crotch.

“Fuck,” she spat out and doubled up over the table.

The crowd of waiters and other hangers-on was crowing, and Adrienne turned back to them, catching up a cosmo and downing it in one sip.  She lifted the head of the snake she still wore as a necklace and made it wobble up and down like it was alive.  “Who wants to kiss my snake?”

She was quickly enveloped by a crowd of enthusiastic snake-kissers.  Tony appeared out of the crowd at the table and plucked the underpants off of Christian’s head.  “My shift just ended,” he murmured.  “These are hot.  I want to see these on you for real.”

Christian grinned stupidly up at him.  “Yeah,” he mumbled, and Tony’s fingers hooked into his belt loop and pulled him up and out of the bar.  Cordelia had passed out again.

Emily hadn’t noticed most of that.  She was biting down on her lip and desperately clinging to the edge of the table.  Emma was working her fingers into her through her underwear.  She leaned close to her ear and hissed at her.  “Lean back, I’m going to fuck you right here.”

“What?”  Emily slowly sat up, confused, and was unprepared for Emma to clamber on top of her and shove her into the corner of the booth.  She caught one of her ankles and pushed it up, keeping the other one off the bench and making sure her legs were spread properly.

“You don’t get to fucking make-out with my sister without consequences.”

“She’s a good kisser,” Emily mumbled, inopportunely.  “Feels like getting fucked.”

Emma made a sound like an enraged animal and kissed Emily with a clash of teeth.  She shoved her underwear aside and pushed two fingers into her, without preamble.  Emily gave a little cry of pain and protest into her mouth, but lifted her hips, fisted Emma’s hair and kissed her harder, sliding her tongue into her mouth.  Emma had one arm braced on the table, and she knelt on the seat, leaning over her to trade sloppy wet kisses and fuck her fingers in and out of Emily who was thrusting back against her, one hand buried in her hair, and the other splayed out for balance.  Emma’s kisses were getting desperate and bitey, and Emily’s balancing hand released the table and quested down her body, groping her through her shirt and then sliding into her underwear.  The moment she pressed against her, Emma’s kisses changed to deeper and longer and softer, but no less desperate, and Emily rolled her hips to get a better angle on her steady fucking, and hooked her ankles together around Emma’s waist.

Unfortunately, that meant when Emily came and Emma right after her, no one was holding on, and they slipped right off the bench and on to the floor under the table.

It was painful, and the thud woke Cordelia up.

At that point Adrienne had disappeared, so after finishing most of drinks left on the table, they dragged a groggy Cordelia back upstairs to the room and made her go to bed.  Emily relented on the showering conditions.  It was supposed to make it faster.  It didn’t.

Emma turned Cordelia on her side so she wouldn’t choke if she threw up, and then crawled on top of Emily who was sitting on the bed in a towel trying to figure out how her shoes worked.

“You’re staying, right?”

“Mmm?” Emily looked up lazily and offered her mouth to be kissed.  “My mom…”

“If your mom sees you this drunk, she’ll never let me near you again.”

Emily grinned.  “I’m not drunk.”  She hooked her arms around Emma’s back and dropped onto the bed, pulling her on top.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re plastered.”

“She gave her a _snake_.”  Emily giggled and buried her face in Emma’s shoulder.  “Dead snake.”

“You and fucking snakes,” Emma muttered.  Her hands slid down to cup Emily’s ass.  “I got you for it before.”

Emily rolled over until she was on top and pushed herself up slightly, giving Emma an intent steady look.  “Yeah,” she said, a little more breathily than she had intended.

Emma looked back.  “Oh.”

Emily kissed her.

***

In the morning Christian nearly tripped over Adrienne who was asleep in the hall wearing the cockslut bra, a rucked up miniskirt, and nothing else.  He hurriedly dragged her into his room and left her in bed.  Apparently that morning one of the other guests stepped on the dead snake in a hallway and there had been a small emergency.   The hotel had comped his stay.

Cordelia had a massive headache and wouldn’t come out of the room.  Christian came down to breakfast walking funny and sat down very gingerly at the table.  Emma was drinking something disgusting with a raw egg in it, and Emily smiled guiltily when her mom came down and spotted her.

“Sorry I didn’t come in last night.  The party went really late and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“All right,” said Elizabeth, wryly.  “So, why are you wearing a turtleneck?”  She patted Emily’s shoulder.  “It’s a hundred degrees out, dear.  I recommend band-aids.”

Emma laughed so hard she snorted her hangover remedy out her nose.


	20. Uh, Oh, Those Summer Nights

The last night of the conference, the program hosted another big party.  They hired a band, and the whole hotel was bedecked in decorations.  There was an open bar, but after Adrienne’s birthday, everyone was a little more wary about free alcohol.

“You can’t stay over tonight?” Emma asked, sitting on the edge of a lawn chair on the roof.  The stars were out, but they were dimmed by the brightness of the lanterns hanging around the pool where the sound of conference-goers talking and laughing nearly drowned out the band.

“Eight o’clock flight.  Mom will want to be there by six, for check in, and that means she’ll drag me out of bed around four.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s worth going to sleep.”

Emily glanced at her.  “No, it’s really not.”

Emma flashed her a tight smile.  “You looking forward to seeing your boyfriends again.”

Emma snorted.  _Not_ her boyfriends.  “A bit.”

“Look,” Emma sounded serious and Emily looked over, wishing the light was better so she could see her face.  “I know I was a bit of a freak about that.  I’m not- I mean, I’m really not intending on making you feel guilty about anything.  You have your own life, and it doesn’t really involve me.  So you need to do whatever you need to do.”

Emily stared at her and tried to parse that.  It was a lost cause.  “What?”

Emma scowled.  “This is over.”

Emily tensed.

“This is over _tonight_.  You go home tomorrow morning, and we’re leaving in the afternoon.  It was just for the summer, and no matter how much we’ve pretended that we’re like Sandy and Danny, we’re not going to miraculously end up going to the same school, and there isn’t any motorcycling off into the sunset.  And I just want you to know that I _know_ that, and I’m not going to get angry or jealous if you… find someone else, or just fuck one of your boyfriends because you’re bored.”

Emily cringed at the thought.  Last year, she considered, if either one had asked, she probably would have done it in a heartbeat.  She had wanted so desperately to be acknowledged as a girl, not just as one of the guys, and if someone had told her she was pretty…   She had been just like Emma at the beginning of the summer, so desperate for validation, that it really wasn’t funny.  “You’re gorgeous, you know,” she said.  Emma turned and looked at her with an expression that suggested she had grown a second head.  “I just don’t know if I told you that enough, not half the times I thought it.  And you’re always telling me that I’m prettier than I think I am, and more desirable than I think I am, and I really do believe it now.”  She smiled.  “You’ve given me a lot of positive reinforcement.  But you should know that I’m _always_ attracted to you.  And you’re not an awful person, and if I could spend time with anyone, I’d spend time with you.  This might be over, but… even if summer girlfriends ends with the summer, you’re still my friend.  You’ll always be my friend.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Emma muttered, looking away.

“Yes it _does!_ ” Emily snapped at her.  “Just because you’ve never had a friend before doesn’t mean you can disregard this!”

“I’m not disregarding _you_!  I-“ She stopped, cutting her words off, and flashed Emily a deeply hurt glare.  “I’m just selfish.  And I only know how to hold onto myself.  I’m not stupid, or blind, and I don’t _trust_ people.  And once you’re gone, you’re gone.  I can’t _keep_ you.  I can’t put a leash on you, or know what you’re thinking, or what you’re doing, and people _lie_.  It’s so easy to lie.  And it’s… easier to just let go than to wonder if they’re just faking it.”

“Well,” Emily managed, trying to not sound as awful as she felt.  She was going to say this flat out, because if she didn’t, she’d cry.  “If you just let this go, and never write, and pretend it didn’t happen, it would hurt me.  I’d understand, consciously, but unconsciously it would make me feel like I never mattered to you.  And even if it turns into polite lies, which it won’t, because I wouldn’t lie to you, it still means that _once_ I was important enough to be worth remembering.  And… that’s all I have with a lot of my friends.  I don’t know them anymore.  I haven’t seen some of them for years, not since elementary school.  But whenever I get a letter, it makes me feel like I’m not a ghost, just moving through places unseen.  I’m a real person, and I made enough of an impression for someone to remember me.  And that’s enough for me.  Sometimes you need someone else to remind you that you exist.”

Emma looked away swiftly.  “You’re fucked-up,” she said, and it would have hurt, but her voice was thick and she wouldn’t look back.  She pressed her hands to her face instead.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t _agree_ with me!”

Emily laughed.  She couldn’t help it.  The tears in Emma’s eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and it was transfixing.  She reached out and caught her hands.  “Hey.”

“Don’t-“ Emma struggled, but she kept a hold of her hands and wouldn’t let her go.

“You can trust _me_.”

“No, I _can’t_!”  Emma ripped her hands away.  “And I don’t _want_ to!  I don’t want to bind you like that.  I don’t want to demand that you be trustworthy, and I don’t want to need to rely on someone else!  I’m not going to be the weak one here!”

“No one is saying that you’re weak!”

“I want you to do whatever the fuck you want!  I want you to grow up, and meet people, and do something you love, and get _married_ , and I want you to never think about me again!”

“What?” Emily swallowed hard, unsure, and feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach.

“And if you still remember me, after all of that, after you’re an adult, with a life, and _free_.  Then I’ll trust you.  Then I will let myself need you.  But not until then.”

“How long is that?” Emily asked weakly.  “How long do I have to wait?”

“Don’t _wait_!  Do you even hear a single word that’s coming out of my mouth?”

“I’m not just going to forget about you!  I’m not going to cut off all contact and pretend I don’t know you!”

Emma looked away.  “I’ll be your friend.  Even if you decide you’ve had enough of me, and I make you sick, I’ll always be your friend.  Like you said, because you mattered to me once.”

Emily looked at her.  “So you mean-“  Emma cut her short with a harsh glare.  So they couldn’t say it.  That was okay.  She understood why she wouldn’t want to say it.  Sometimes the world was like that, where if you gave it voice, it would slip away, and that one chance you had to make it real would fade as if it had never existed.  “Okay.  I won’t wait.  And you shouldn’t either.  If you’re giving me a chance, you need to have the same one, or it’s not fair.”

“Sure,” Emma muttered.  Emily didn’t believe a word out of her mouth when she had that tone of voice.

“Whatever.”  She shook her head.  She reached out and slid her hand into Emma’s.  “Doesn’t start until after tomorrow anyways.”

“ _After_ tomorrow?”

Emily stood and tugged Emma up after her.  “It’s almost midnight, and I’m not planning on running away when the clock strikes twelve.”  Emma smiled at her, almost shyly, and Emily tugged her closer and looped her arms around her waist.  Because maybe this really was it, and this was the last time they’d be together and feel like this.  The lazy ballad rose up over the chatter from the band, and Emma stepped into her, curling one hand around her shoulder, and resting the other against the back of her neck.

Her body was slim and childish under the soft cotton of her dress, and Emily let her hands rest on her hips as they moved slowly to the song.  It was kind of awful to see her this way, young and resigned, her eyes wet when she looked up, and Emily was the one who had made her cry.  It was only supposed to be a game when they had started it.  Emily hadn’t meant to care _,_ andEmma had seemed tough enough to deal with anything.  Few things were like they seemed in the beginning.

But they were close enough that the cool night stayed distant, and Emily tightened her grip and leaned in, pressing a kiss against her hair right behind her ear.  And she wasn’t about to let go quite yet.

***

_Summer dreams, ripped at the seams, but oh, those summer nights._

***

Somehow Emma had managed to wrangle all four of the Frost kids down into the lobby at five in the morning.  Cordelia gave Emily a groggy hug and nearly fell asleep again leaning against her waist.  Adrienne looked like she hadn’t gone to bed yet and gave her a dismissive wave before disappearing.  Christian gave her a hug.

“It was awesome hanging out with you.”  Then he went and shook hands with her mother.

Emma was standing stiffly, looking a bit petulant, and clearly tired.  She hadn’t been to bed yet either.  She didn’t make a move, and Emily didn’t either.

“Cab’s outside,” said the porter with the luggage.

Emma walked up to her, straight and tall with almost no expression on her face.  And then she kissed her, not light, or deep, or show-offy, just a kiss.  And Emily kissed back, in the same way.  Emma tangled their fingers together, just for a moment.  “Bye,” she said, and turned and walked away.

Emily made a little sound in her chest that might have been supposed to be a return farewell, but didn’t really manage anything coherent.  She followed her mother out to the cab.  She didn’t let her mother see her face all the way to the airport.

At check-in Elizabeth got a good look at her and sighed.  “Oh, Emily.”  She found a clean handkerchief and gave it to her.  “Cold water,” she instructed.  “It will make you feel better.”  She shook her head.  “Honestly, the stewardesses are going to think I beat you.”

***

“Roomie!” Daniela crowed and Emily’s suitcase was knocked out of her hand as she was hugged.  “You’re back early!  You didn’t fucking write me once!  How was California?  Was it awesome?  Elba rocked.  I met this Australian girl and her friends in the airport going there, and she went down on me in the bathroom, and her surfer boy cousin, he was really hot, and we all got plastered and… well.”  She grinned.  “It was awesome.”  She gave Emily a sly grin and dragged her into the room, closing the door.  “And did you see the new guy who moved in down the hall?  Mike or Michael or something.  But _British_ , and _eyeliner_.  He’s fucking smoking.  And you.”  Daniela suddenly looked surprised.  “You got _laid_.”

Emily gaped.  She could _tell_?

“Did that douchy friend of yours, John, or whatever, seal the deal?  He’s been slavering after you for like years.”

“Uh,” Emily grinned.  “He asked.”  It had been kind of more than just asking.  There had been bad lines, pleading, ‘but we’re friends and we should help each other out, for both of our sakes.’  When she had told him that she didn’t actually need deflowering anymore there had been indignation, and insults, and then more pleading.  It had been kind of pathetic.  “But I didn’t want him, and I don’t need to do people favors to get them to like me.”

Daniela blinked.  “Haven’t I told you that like forty-seven times?  Seriously.  And, not Matt?”

Emily laughed.  “Haha, no.  Although I’m apparently not allowed to see him anymore.  That’s why I’m a couple days early.  Matt’s parents caught him kissing a boy, flipped out and decided that I, being spawn of the devil, had turned him gay. Which I totally did not!  Don’t you have to at least make out with someone to turn them gay?  My mom decided it would be expedient for me to leave town early.”

Daniela waved her hand dismissively.  “He was always gay.”

“Exactly.  I just convinced him to give being gay a chance.”

Daniela stared at her, then covered her face.  “You totally turned him gay.  You’re worse than me.”

Emily grinned.  “Maybe.”  She slung her suitcase up onto her bed.  “I showed him the road to the right side.”

Daniela hoisted herself up onto the desk, crossing her ankles demurely.  “Aha.  That’s why I have two strikes against me.  You met a _girl_.”  She shook her head.  “I really hope she wasn’t _nice_.”

Emily snorted and started making piles of clothing on her bed.

“You’re not going to tell me?”  Daniela gave a sigh of despair.  “She must have been nice.  Vanilla too probably.  Oh, you got some mail.”

Emily glanced up.  “Really?”

“Yeah, from Massachusetts or somewhere vile.”  She picked an envelope up off her desk and tossed it to her.  It was heavy, and Emily tensed as she looked at the handwriting on the direction.  She opened it.  A stack of pictures fell out along with a short letter written on lined notebook paper.

“So,” it started.  “You probably had a great time with your boyfriends in Rome, and now you’re back with your psycho roommate, having a good time there too.  Whatever.  The Northeast fucking sucks.  I have read more books in the past month than any human should.  

Riding is just not the same without you and your imaginary snakes.  Adrienne had her real birthday party and the police came, not that this was in anyway unexpected.  Dad dragged Cordelia to the salon to get her hair dyed back to some normal color before school starts.  They couldn’t get the color covered up entirely though, so it’s black now, which she thinks is awesome.  And he’s forcing me to join the tennis team, which makes me want to _die_.

Christian’s boytoy sent him the pictures people took at Addy’s first party, and told me to send some to you.  They are appropriately full of debauchery.  I burned the ones of Addy molesting you with her tongue, because I don’t need to remember that shit (except for the one where you can see the dead snake creeping down your cleavage because it is too funny for words.)

School starts in two weeks and my life is boring and celibate.

Not missing you at all,

Emma”

Daniela had slid off the desk and come over to Emily’s bed, and was staring fixedly at her pile of underclothes.  “Emz,” she said as if she were thinking deep thoughts.  “When did you get all new underwear?”

Emily laughed and handed her the stack of photos.  “You’re right, I met a girl.  But, don’t worry, there’s nothing about her that you could call _nice_.”

FIN


End file.
